


Sidelines: Tales of the Assist Trophies

by QuackNSnack



Category: Super Smash Brothers
Genre: Assist Trophies get their time in the spotlight!, Gen, The Arcade Bunny is named Baito here
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-02
Updated: 2019-10-05
Packaged: 2019-11-08 03:04:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 20,751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17973272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QuackNSnack/pseuds/QuackNSnack
Summary: Assist Trophy: An item capable of summoning a random character to aid the user. Follow their adventures as they prove their worth on the battlefield. Of course, with the variety of assistants around, it won't be easy...





	1. Bomberman's Lament

It had been a couple of months since the newest Super Smash Brothers tournament had officially begun to much fanfare. Many viewers cheered the arrival of long-awaited newcomers such as King K. Rool from Crocodile Isle, Isabelle from the Animal Forest, and the sensational Incineroar from the Alola region. Even the conference that announced a humble Piranha Plant would join the battle was enough to bring plenty of attention for how utterly unexpected it was. Thus, the kickoff was a success, much to the happiness of all the participants.

Yet amidst all the glitz and glamor, there was another group of characters that went relatively unnoticed by the coverage. In fact, even some of the newer Smashers wouldn't be able to find them unless given directions. These individuals were known as Assist Trophies, people that would pop out of a mysterious capsule and use their skills to aid the Smashers. Although they didn't get nearly as much attention as the Smashers, their appearance was still appreciated by all.

But for some Assist Trophies, the feeling was not mutual…

* * *

_Beep! Beep! Beep!_

"Ungh…"

With a pink, globular hand, Bomberman shut his alarm off and rubbed his eyes. It was only 7:30? He regretted setting his alarm this early. If only Dr. Wright didn't feel the need to hold those meetings every morning…

But griping wouldn't change the fact that he still had to get up, so get up he did, rolling out of bed and checking his internal components. All systems seemed to be running smoothly. With that in mind, he walked out of his bedroom and into the main lounge.

Two other Assist Trophies were already sitting there. One of them, a smartly-dressed pink rabbit, turned and waved to the robot. "Hey! Good morning, Bomberman!"

Bomberman waved sleepily to the rabbit. "Morning, Baito. You seem energetic today."

"Yeah, I am!" replied the rabbit. "I mean, it just sorta sunk in that  _wow,_  I'm actually  _here_! Among all these heroes! They're all _here_!  _I'm_  here!"

"Now, now, not all the Smashers are heroes, per se," replied the other Assist Trophy, a blue vixen named Krystal wielding a staff. "Honestly, it's a wonder how they let that Ridley fellow in…"

"Oh, right..." replied Baito, rubbing the back of his head. "But still! I get to be alongside all these icons! It's  _amaaazing_!"

Bomberman smiled, even if he technically didn't have a mouth. Both of them had been announced as Assist Trophies at the same time. While Bomberman had gotten an interview, and was subsequently offered an assist position, to his knowledge, Baito had never even sent in an application. It was only natural that he would still feel this excited, even a couple months after the tournament started.

The door burst open, interrupting the robot's train of thought. An orange creature with an apron and a toque stumbled in, looking very tired indeed. "Man, I'm beat..." he muttered to no one in particular.

"Good morning, Chef Kawasaki!" chirped Bomberman. "Uh… you okay? You look tired…"

"I've had to cook breakfast for all fifty-nine of you. And some of you don't even eat!" He slumped against the wall. "The food's ready in the kitchen. Man, I need a break…"

"Yes, thank you, Kawasaki, that will do," came another voice. A short man with tall green hair and a brown suit stepped into the room. "I suppose we must hold our morning meeting over breakfast today." He pushed a small button on the wall. "Good morning, assistants! Rise and shine! We've got another busy day ahead of us!"

One by one, the Assist Trophies filed into the main lounge, even those that didn't have bodies to speak of. Some of them looked more tired than others, with Riki still rubbing the sleep from his eyes. "Must Doctor wake up sidekicks so early?" asked the Nopon. "Riki was having wonderful dream about Wifeypon…"

"Now, Riki," said Dr. Wright, "we must get up bright and early if we are to assist the fighters."

"The fighters…" Chef Kawasaki's eyes widened. "Oh, no!  _I've gotta cook breakfast for the Smashers!_ " He scurried out of the main lounge, muttering something about needing plenty of butter.

"...Right, then. At any rate, today's morning meeting will come to order. We'll begin with our roll call." Dr. Wright took out a clipboard. "Akira?"

"Here," said the martial artist.

"Alucard?"

"I am present."

And so, Dr. Wright went down the list of names, from Ashley to Ghirahim, to Guile, to Krystal, all the way down to Zero. As the Assist Trophies started in on their food, Dr. Wright scanned his clipboard.

"Let's see, what else… Ah! Today's matches are few and far between, so I suppose it's an easy day." Everyone breathed a collective sigh of relief.

"However…!" continued the man. "There are still some  _minor_  situations that need to be dealt with. For starters… Jeff, some of the transporters are on the fritz. Might wanna fix that. And Phosphora, a certain…  _incident_  with Pichu has resulted in an outage in the East Wing. I trust you can handle that. And as you all know by now, you must be prepared in case you are summoned for a battle. And… that should be it for today! Very good. Meeting concluded!"

The Assist Trophies finished their breakfast and filed off in different directions. Bomberman had nowhere else to be, so he simply stayed in the lounge with some of the others. Baito got up to pour himself some coffee.

"Oh, man, I hope I get summoned today!" said Baito, mixing in the cream. "It sure beats standing around in the shop all day…"

"Ah, yes," replied Krystal, opening a newspaper to read. "You're still running the shop, aren't you?"

"Yeah!" affirmed Baito. "I'm in charge of the Trophy Shop! Kinda weird how they still call it that when they don't sell trophies anymore… But I still get plenty of business! Like, just a couple of days ago,  _Mario_  showed up! In  _my_  shop!"

Bomberman stared out the window, only partially paying attention to the rabbit's recollection of his brush with fame. He remembered when he had first heard of the Super Smash Brothers tournament. He'd sent in many applications, but only now could he score an interview. Even though he would have liked to be a real fighter, he still considered being here at all a huge honor.

"I mean, I got to meet Mario! The real Super Mario himself!" Baito continued. "Man, being an Assist Trophy is great!"

"Wah, you say that now, but give it a couple of years. You'll change your tune."

Everyone turned to the speaker, a tall, lanky, and unpleasant-looking man with a crooked mustache. The man scowled miserably into his omelette. "Believe me, the novelty wears off quickly."

"Oh, hi, Waluigi!" said Baito with a cheerful wave. "What makes you say that?"

"I'm-a saying this whole Assist Trophy racket is a sham!" declared Waluigi. "They invited almost everyone from my world, even Daisy and some random weed! And to make matters worse, now Luigi's gonna be with Daisy all the time! It's-a not fair!" Waluigi accentuated this with a pound of the table.

"Oh, stop griping already," said Gray Fox, a cyborg wielding a sword. "In a sense, aren't we all fighters, if only for a fleeting moment?"

"Easy for you to say, Robo Ninja," retorted Waluigi. "You've only been here twice! Once you've been here long enough, you'll see what a sham this whole thing is."

"I can't believe I'm saying this, but the purple guy's right," said Samurai Goroh, a portly but muscular man with a katana of his own. "How come we're stuck in this dump while the fighters get all the spotlight?"

"D-dump?!" Baito looked thunderstruck. "W-whaddya mean? This place—" he gestured to the room they were in— "is amazing! Aren't you glad you're here at all?"

Waluigi and Samurai Goroh stared down at the little rabbit. "Say, uh, how many tournaments have you been in exactly?" asked Goroh.

"Oh, well, this is actually my first one!" replied Baito, innocent smile on his face.

Both men looked at Baito with a mixture of pity and superiority. "Yeah, that figures. You're new here, so everything seems all new and fresh," said Samurai Goroh. "But lemme tell you, the shine comes off the apple real quick." The samurai turned to go, muttering under his breath.

Waluigi also got up. "I'm outta here, too. I've gotta go plug up Luigi's door with syrup. Have fun languishing in obscurity for the rest of your lives, losers! Waaa ha ha ha!" And with those words, the purple-clad man stomped away.

Krystal huffed. "What's  _their_  problem? You'd think they'd be a little nicer to the novices…" Several other Assist Trophies grumbled their agreement. "Ignore them, Baito," she said kindly. "They're just envious that they're not important enough to be Smashers."

"It's—it's okay, you guys," said Baito. "I'm just glad to be here at all! I'm perfectly happy running the Trophy Shop, and—" The rabbit checked his watch— "The shop opens soon! I gotta go! See ya!" He dashed out the door, waving hurried goodbyes to everyone.

Bomberman glanced around the room. Krystal was busying herself with her paper, while Gray Fox was gazing out the window, seemingly lost in thought. Neither of them seemed to be waiting for him to speak, so he figured he might as well take his leave. Without another word, he slipped out the door.

* * *

Bomberman meandered down the halls, not exactly sure of where he was going. To be honest, he didn't really mind. The Smash Mansion was big enough for an adventure, yet small enough that he'd always end up somewhere. Sort of like the mazes back home. It was comfortable like that.

The robot passed by the cafeteria, where several of the Smashers were wrapping up their breakfast. Chef Kawasaki stumbled out the door, looking even more exhausted than earlier.

"Ooogh…"

"Er, hey, Kawasaki," greeted Bomberman. "Everything all right?"

"All right?!" asked the cook. The bags under his eyes hung low. "I've just had to cook breakfast for over seventy Smashers! And two of them are Kirby and Dedede! I mean, seriously, who asks for  _eighteen helpings_  of pancakes?!" He slumped against the wall. "I really hope I don't get summoned today… After the morning I've had, if I go out there I'll be tenderized like Bowser's favorite steak!"

"Oh, geez, uh… that's rough," replied Bomberman. "What about lunch?"

"Please don't remind me," said Kawasaki. "I know this sounds weird coming from me, but right now the last thing I want to think about is food."

"Oh, sorry." Bomberman sat down against the wall next to him. The two sat against the wall in silence, watching the world go by.

By now, several of the Smashers were filing out of the cafeteria. As they passed, the two assistants could hear a voice (they guessed Pit's, based on the enthusiasm) chatting about the day's matches. "Oh, boy! I've got a match against Samus today!" said the angel. "This is gonna be great!"

Kawasaki huffed in thought. "That angel kid, I tell you… Don't get me wrong, he's a good kid, but he eats like a… thing that… eats a lot. You know, I thought I had a pretty metaphor in mind, but I lost it."

"Mmm." Bomberman nodded. He knew what that was like. "...Hey, Kawasaki, can I ask you a question?"

"Go for it."

"Do you like being an Assist Trophy?"

Kawasaki blinked. "Hunh?"

"I mean, do you like being on the sidelines?"

Kawasaki pondered on the robot's words. "Well, I can't really say I hate it," he said, closing his eyes. "At the very least, it's a break from cooking! Why do you ask?"

"Oh! Uh… I was just curious," said Bomberman quickly.

If the cook was suspicious of his answer, he didn't show it. "Suit yourself." There was a long silence.

Bomberman sat there as the last of the Smashers left the cafeteria. A thought occurred to him. "Hey, Chef, I—"

Kawasaki was fast asleep, the bustle of the morning clearly taking its toll on him. "Uh, okay," said the robot, getting up to go. "I'll just… leave you to it."

Chef Kawasaki said nothing, for he was still fast asleep.

"...Right. I'll… see you around, I guess." Bomberman slowly got up and walked off.

The moment Bomberman was out of earshot, Chef Kawasaki awoke with a start. " _A horse_! He eats like a horse!"

He looked around. No one was there.

"...I guess I should start on lunch."

* * *

Bomberman walked down a flight of stairs as he continued his journey. He wondered if the day's matches had started yet. Probably not, based on the silence coming from the stages. He wondered if he would be summoned today. If he was, he hoped he'd get to help someone heroic like Link or Kirby, or a fellow robot like R.O.B. or Mega Man. Or maybe Snake or Simon or Richter, some of his colleagues! He smiled as he remembered their first collaboration, a fighting game much like the one they were in. And then they'd all later appear in one of his own projects! Those were good times indeed.

But in this tournament, things were different. They were all in the same place, yes, but things weren't quite the same. With all the training Snake and Simon needed to get in, they barely had time to chat with him, only managing passing hellos at best. And while Snake's return was highly praised by all, and Simon's inclusion was met with plenty of fanfare, as an Assist Trophy, Bomberman didn't get that exposure.

Waluigi and Samurai Goroh's words crept back into his head.  _This whole Assist Trophy racket is a sham..._

_How come we're stuck in this dump while the fighters get all the spotlight..._

_The shine comes off the apple real quick…_

_Have fun languishing in obscurity for the rest of your lives, losers!_

Bomberman shook his head. This was no time to get all mopey! He could be summoned at any moment! And anyways, it was just like Krystal said, those guys were just bitter about not becoming official fighters!

...But then again, they'd been Assist Trophies since the whole program was created. Didn't they have a right to be bitter?

"One! Two! That's it! Keep the onslaught going and don't let up!"

The sharp words snapped the robot out of his brooding. In his wandering, he had reached the training room, where his fellow assistants were wailing on a set of red punching bags.

Bomberman peeked inside. A tall, muscular man with a flattop haircut was instructing a small creature with pointy ears, a red echidna with dreadlocks, and another man with curly, light blue hair and incredibly long, spring-like arms. Together, they practiced their moves on the punching bags, sending them wobbling back and forth. Bomberman was in awe at the sight.

The spring-armed man caught notice of the robot watching them. He retracted his stretched-out arm to wave. "Oh, hey, Bombe—"

As he took his eyes off the punching bag, it swung back like a pendulum, cuffing the man in the side of his head and knocking him flat to the ground.

The pointy-eared fellow and the echidna paused to watch him fall as the flattop man pinched the bridge of his nose. "Spring Man, what have I told you time and time again? Distractions on the battlefield can mean  _death_. A split-second is the difference between a win and a loss!"

"Come on, Guile," retorted Spring Man, peeling himself off the floor. "It's not even that serious. It's just a couple of friendly matches, right?"

"Maybe so," replied Guile, "but as an Assist Trophy, you're expected to give it your all to help the Smashers in battle. And in the training room, it's  _Coach_  Guile to you." His eyes fell on Bomberman. "Ah, Bomberman. You here for training?"

"Oh, no, don't mind me! I'm just here to watch! Besides," he said with a wink, "I much prefer a more  _explosive_  style of battle!" He took out one of his own bombs to accentuate his pun.

Nobody laughed.

"...Never mind." Bomberman embarrassedly put away his bomb.

"Now then, where were we? Knuckle Joe! Knuckles! Spring Man! Back to drills! One-two! Uppercut!"

The combatants went back to their drills as Bomberman leaned against the wall. Amidst the sounds of their fists pounding the punching bags, he could hear Knuckles say, "Y'know, they actually offered me a spot as a Smasher."

"Did they, now?" replied Knuckle Joe, hitting a punching bag square in the center.

"Oh, yeah," said Knuckles, clobbering his own bag. "Thing is, they had me down as an Echo of Sonic, and ya know, that just didn't fit me. So I turned 'em down, rather have the Assist Trophy title."

"Mm-hmm." From the sound of it, Knuckle Joe found the echidna's claims hard to believe.

As the two of them continued to chat, Bomberman watched them practice with dwindling interest. He was about to leave when he bumped into someone at the entrance. "Oh, pardon me, I… wait a minute, I think I know you!"

Staring down at Bomberman was a young boy, looking no older than 17, with messy blond hair, a red chest plate under a blue tunic, and a sword on his back. He looked confused at Bomberman's statement. "You… you do?"

"Yeah!" replied Bomberman excitedly. "You're Isaac from Vale! It's great to finally meet you!" He extended an arm in greeting.

Isaac's eyes went wide as he shook it. "Y-you actually recognize me? Gee, that's… that's rare," he said, rubbing the back of his head.

"Yeah, I know you!" said Bomberman. "A lot of people have been talking about you! Are you here for training?"

"Nah," said Isaac, leaning against the wall next to the robot. "I'm not one for hand-to-hand combat. Unless, of course, it's Psynergy." He conjured a large, magical green hand to accentuate his pun.

Bomberman laughed. "You know, I just said the same thing a couple minutes ago!"

Isaac's little pun led into a long conversation, the two of them comparing combat maneuvers and trading stories of their amazing adventures. Right around the same time, Guile's crew was on break, and Knuckles was wrapping up his somewhat-tall tale of how he had graciously accepted the role of Assist Trophy.

"At any rate," concluded Knuckles, "even if I am just an Assist Trophy, I could still take on half the clowns walkin' around here. Ah, to be a  _real_  Smasher…"

Bomberman and Isaac paused to listen to the echidna's bragging. The robot shook his head. "Get a load of this guy, saying he was almost a fighter. I betcha he didn't even send in an application…"

Isaac's expression grew dark. "Yeah, I bet," he mumbled.

The sudden change in mood was not lost on Bomberman. "Hey, uh, you okay?" he asked tentatively.

The Venus Adept turned away. "It's… it's fine."

"You don't  _sound_  fine."

The little robot was very perceptive, Isaac had to admit. "When they first announced this whole tournament, I sent in a bunch of applications, and I even got an interview. Do you remember the Fighter Ballot?"

"Yeah," Bomberman recalled. "If I remember correctly, you had a lot of support there, right?"

Isaac nodded. "I got a bunch of support in the media and from the fans. Anyways, they announced this tournament, I got the interview and a couple months passed with no word. At that point, I was so sure I was gonna get in. There was even a rumor that I was chosen. Me and a couple of other guys. But then…" The boy paused. Bomberman waited, saying nothing but knowing exactly what came next.

"Then they aired that conference, and guess who was one of the first Assist Trophies they showed?" As low as Isaac's voice was, the bitterness that flowed out was palpable.

Bomberman was silent for a while. "I'm… I'm sorry, Isaac. I know how much that must've—"

"No, no, it's okay. Really," he said, looking at the expression on Bomberman's face. "It's just… I was so close, you know?"

There was a long silence. Even Guile seemed to pity him. Then Bomberman spoke up. "Hey, I know that must really suck, but… look at it this way! From what I hear, not all the Assist Trophies from past tournaments made it back! The higher-ups must've seen something in you! A-and now that there's a lot of uproar over your status, you're pretty much a shoo-in for next time!"

Bomberman's words didn't completely raise the boy's spirits, but they definitely helped. Isaac managed a small smile. "...Thanks. I guess I needed to hear that."

"Alright, guys, break's over," said Guile, interrupting the moment. "Matches are starting soon. Back to your drills!"

"Yes, sir!" said Knuckle Joe, Spring Man, and Knuckles, the three of them jumping to their feet. Without delay, they were back in front of the punching bags, assaulting them with a barrage of punches.

"Oh, the matches are starting soon!" said Bomberman, jumping to his feet. "I'd better get ready just in case! I'll see you around!"

"Yeah, you, too," said Isaac, his smile just a little wider. The last thing Bomberman saw as he ran off was Isaac looking contemplatively at a spare punching bag.

* * *

Bomberman ran into the first room with a television he found, a billiard room, where several Smashers and Assist Trophies alike were gathered. He wedged himself into a seat, right between Bowser and the Wii Fit Trainer. The former stared down his snout at the robot and snorted. "Hey, uh, who let this  _reject_  in?"

Bomberman only rolled his eyes. He'd heard many things about the Koopa King, very few of them good. "Don't be so rude, Bowser," said Wii Fit Trainer. "Like it or not, he's still part of this tournament."

"A  _part_ of this?" Bowser looked falsely taken aback. "He's an  _Assist Trophy_. They're the rejects, the  _side characters_. He's about as much a part of this tournament as that chump Alfonzo." There was some scattered laughter at Bowser's response.

Bomberman felt his skin grow hot. How  _dare_  he claim he's not part of the tournament! And as if he wasn't standing right there! He was overcome with the temptation to pull out one of his strongest bombs and blow that creep away. But he was quickly reminded of the upcoming match. Now more than ever, he desperately hoped to be summoned. Keeping his voice calm, he asked, "So, who's today's match between?"

"It's a one-stock match. Marth vs. Duck Hunt on the Garden of Hope," said Wii Fit Trainer. Bomberman had heard of Marth. A warrior prince from the land of Altea, incredibly popular among fans for his skill with a sword. Meanwhile, the Duck Hunt team, consisting of a dog, a duck, and an unseen sharpshooter, was not known for their fighting prowess, but the dog's laughter and projectile explosives could really get under an opponent's skin. He didn't care which of them summoned him, as long as he could participate.

"Ooh, the match is starting!" came a voice in the crowd. Everyone stopped their conversations, their attention now directed towards the television. Sure enough, the fighters had warped onto the arena, the music swelling. From a commentator's box far away, Master Hand began the countdown. "3… 2… 1…  _Go!_ "

The room erupted into cheers as the Smashers charged at each other. The dog grinned as he threw a clay pigeon at Marth, who put up his shield as it dropped to the floor. The prince leapt up towards the animals, bringing his sword down on the duck, who flew out of the way just in time.

As the battle raged on, everyone in the room was glued to the screen, cheering whenever blows were exchanged. Only Bomberman remained silent, hoping and hoping that an Assist Trophy would spawn. Then he'd get his chance. He'd show them.

Just then, the room gasped, snapping Bomberman back to reality. Marth had launched Duck Hunt by throwing a Spiny Shell at him. Was the match over already? No, wait, Duck Hunt was already falling back down to the stage. Marth gripped his sword, preparing to launch the animals once and for all.

Then it happened.

An Assist Trophy, that wonderful, rainbow-colored capsule, appeared a couple feet away from Marth. Bomberman's breath hitched as Marth turned to notice it.  _This is it,_  he thought.  _Time to show 'em what I'm made of_!

But just before Marth could pick it up, the dog kicked a tin can filled with gunpowder at the prince, detonating it on top of his head. Marth sailed away as the dog chased after him.

_No, no, no!_  thought Bomberman.  _Don't knock him out yet!_

The dog watched as Marth tried to recover, laughing at him the whole while. The duck pecked at the dog's head to get his attention. It pointed at the Assist Trophy. The dog grinned in response, bounding toward the colorful capsule.

Bomberman's breathing grew faster and faster.  _Come on, come on, come on…_

The moment the dog's paw touched the item, Bomberman felt a strange feeling in his back. His hands started to glow, then his arms, spreading towards the rest of his body.  _Yes, yes, yes! This is my moment of glory!_

The robot floated up in the air for a couple moments, then disappeared in a flash of light.

* * *

When Bomberman opened his eyes again, he found himself standing on what felt like… porcelain? He looked down. It really  _was_  porcelain after all.

"Woof!"

Bomberman got down from the large pot he was on. There was his summoner, wagging his tail and gazing at the robot expectantly. Bomberman reached out to pet the dog. He was rather cute when he wasn't laughing at someone.

The duck quacked sharply, getting both of their attention. Marth had already made his way back onto the stage and was charging towards them.

Quick as a whip, Bomberman pulled out a bomb, its fuse lit and ready to go. "Time to prove my worth! I'm gonna have a  _blast_  today!"

Nobody laughed.

Bomberman paid them no mind, as he was already placing down bombs and deftly dodging their explosions. But for every bomb that exploded on Marth, there was one that the prince dodged, slashing at the robot at every opportunity. It came to a head when Marth hit him with a wicked overhead slash, sending him sailing into a stick on the other side of the stage.

His head swimming, Bomberman peeled himself off the ground. He struggled to steady himself. He was fine, he was fine! He could still fight! Look, Marth was retreating! He could still win this!

...Duck Hunt was also retreating, the duck picking up the dog with his wings to fly away. Odd.

A bubble floated past his head. Bomberman looked at it curiously. Then another bubble came, and another, and another…

The ground began to shake. A thought occurred to Bomberman. What had they said about the Garden of Hope again?

A shadow fell over the robot. He slowly turned around…

A giant, sickly green crab was scuttling across the stage, staring down at Bomberman with blank yellow eyes. And it wasn't showing any signs of stopping as it charged towards him.

" _Oh, good Lord_!"

With a swipe of its claw, Bomberman went flying, and thought no more.

* * *

When Bomberman came to, he was back in the billiard room, lying face-up on the floor. He could feel the Wii Fit Trainer dabbing a wet towel on his forehead. Woozily, he sat up. "Di… did we win?"

"Of course you didn't!" laughed Bowser. "After you got knocked out, that Peckish Aristocrab ran right over Duck Hunt!"

Bomberman glanced over at the TV. Sure enough, Marth was posing for the cameras as the crowd cheered, while the dog was politely applauding in the corner, looking slightly beat up but otherwise none the worse for wear.

"What was that about being a part of the team?" asked Bowser, his voice dripping with derision. "Some team member  _he_  turned out to be!"

Bomberman glared at the Koopa King. He was not about to let that brute dampen his mood. "I sure gave Marth a run for his money," he growled.

"And what good did that do?" grinned Bowser. "In the end, he still beat Duck Hunt. If you're supposed to be the helper, then why aren'tcha good at helping? Maybe it's a good thing you're not a  _real_  Smasher. You don't have what it takes. Just like that chump Waluigi!"

The room erupted with laughter, mostly from the meaner Smashers. Once again, Bomberman felt the intense desire to pull out some bombs and watch the whole room explode. But his body, already sore from the match, said otherwise. Without another word, he limped out of the billiard room and into the hallway.

* * *

Far, far, away from all the action, a lone bus drove down an old beaten path. The chauffeur, an old salty kappa by the name of Kapp'n, drove his vehicle, paying close attention to the road and making sure his blinker was off. For he was not just an Assist Trophy, oh no! He was the official chauffeur for the Smashers, taking them to and from the grounds on request. So he faithfully carried out his duties, singing his classic sea shanties as he went along.

Today's passengers, however, were less than enthused.

"Please, for crying out loud, shut  _up_ ," hissed Falco, rubbing his temples. "I shoulda taken my Arwing…"

"Your Arwing? For a quick trip to pick up some milk?" asked Ness, sitting opposite the bird. "That seems kinda overkill, don'tcha think?"

"Maybe, but here's the thing." Falco's voice became hushed. "I  _really_  don't wanna listen to this old geezer's lousy songs."

"Gar, I can hear that, ya scallywag!" barked Kapp'n. "You space folks don't know how to appreciate a proper sea shanty! Now where was I… ah!

_Me boat's like a steed, a steed from a storybook._

_Once you give her a look, you'll see what I mean…"_

"This isn't even a boat," grouched Falco. Kapp'n paid him no mind.

" _She's a proud girl, and she runs hard to get you on yer way._

_She be humble, but she'll rumble._

_Aye, a-storm she's a fearsome sight to be seen!"_

The bus stopped, and fortunately for Falco, so did the kappa's singing. The doors opened and two children, one in blue and the other in pink, hopped on board. "Hi, Mr. Kapp'n!" they said in unison.

"Ahoy, Ice Climbers!" greeted the kappa as the two plopped down in their seats. "I was just in the middle of a merry sea shanty!"

"A sea shanty?" said Nana, eyes shining. "You know, I'm pretty good at singing myself."

"Yeah, but I'm a way better alto," added Popo.

"Oho, you two are classically trained, are ye? Well, perhaps you could join me as backup singers!" replied Kapp'n with a wink. And so, the three began to sing a new song:

" _Stayin' young's about having a mischievous smile._

_You won't grow old for a while, with a gleam in your eye…"_

Falco buried his face in his feathered hands. "I knew I shoulda brought some earplugs…"

* * *

Back in the Smash Mansion, Bomberman continued down the hallway, grumbling to himself. He was still pretty sore (physically and emotionally) about being run over by that giant crab, and Bowser's subsequent put-downs. The Koopa king had a reputation for being a hostile, tyrannical bully, so his words shouldn't have hurt as much as they did. And yet, no matter how many times he tried to brush them off, Bowser's words still kept coming back.  _Maybe it's a good thing you're not a real Smasher. You don't have what it takes…_

Bomberman was reminded of his talk with Isaac in the training room. He'd been trying to get in for years, even getting cut from the fourth tournament, and then to come back with no promotion? Suddenly, he was starting to see why they were so bitter. They'd been here for years, with nary a glance spared towards them. Maybe they were—

" _Hey_! Watch where you're going, Bomb Boy!"

Bomberman jolted out of his funk. He'd bumped into someone, a teenage girl with blonde crescent-shaped hair. She didn't seem too pleased to run into the robot.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Miss, uhhh…"

"Lightning Flash Phosphora," she finished airily. "But most people just call me Phosphora."

"Oh…" Bomberman remembered Dr. Wright mentioning her during the morning meeting. After the day he'd had, he really wanted to talk to someone. "So, um… did you finish up on the East Wing?"

"Finished up? Puh-lease. A simple power outage is child's play for someone like me," she said with a flip of her hair. "The nerve of those hands, honestly, treating  _me_  like their little repair girl. I'm telling you, Assist Trophies don't get an ounce of respect here!"

"...They don't?" Bomberman was intrigued; he'd never heard her thoughts on the matter.

"Of course not! We never get any of the attention, even though we're just as much a part of the battle as the fighters are! Imagine if  _I_ was a real Smasher… I'd wipe out some of these clowns before they knew what hit them!" She sighed. "But  _noooo_ , I'm stuck on the same level as a spiky rock with a face."

"Hey, I know how you feel," said Bomberman helpfully. "But think about it this way. The world needs sidekicks, too! Take the Duck Hunt duo! They—"

"Oh, easy for you to say," interrupted Phosphora. "This is your first time here. From what I've heard, most of us assistants end up stuck here like Dr. Wright, or get let go like Saki. And from the looks of things,  _I'm_  ending up like Wright."

"But—"

"Just forget it, all right?!" she huffed. "I don't need to be pitied, especially not by  _you_." And with that, she floated away, grumbling about how life was so unfair.

Bomberman groaned.  _That conversation could've gone a lot better_ , he thought. That made three others who weren't too fond of their positions. He trudged down the hallway as he thought about what to do next. As he turned a corner, he failed to notice the string pulled taut across the first stair…

Down, down, down the robot tumbled, bumping his head and bending his antenna, before finally landing face first on the floor. Bomberman could hear an all-too-familiar voice, ringing above it all:

"Wahahaha! How's-a that floor taste, loser?!"

Even if Bomberman didn't know Wario, had never heard of Wario, the man's reputation would precede him. A wicked, crude scoundrel of a man, Wario often busied himself by going on treasure hunts or playing tricks on unsuspecting passersby. And unfortunately for Bomberman, Wario was feeling particularly wicked that day. He cackled at the robot's misfortune.

"Wahahaha! Look at you, flat on the ground! You're like a mop! Bomberman, more like Mop… der… man, I guess…"

Bomberman glared up at his assailant. Oh, how he longed to pull out a bomb and just shove it into Wario's big mouth! How he longed to send Wario flying into the sky like the world's ugliest firework! How he longed to set his mustache ablaze and blow his teeth clean out!

Wario wiped a tear from his eye. "Ohoho, man, that's-a rich. Never gets old." He paused as he glanced at the robot glaring daggers at him. "What's-a matter with you? Can't you take a joke?" He shrugged. "Eh, whatever. I'm-a getting bored of you anyways. Have fun spit-shining that floor, Bomb Boy! Wahahahaha!" He strolled off in search of new adventures.

Bomberman peeled himself off the floor, feeling as happy as a wet cat. As much as he would have liked to throw a bomb at Wario while his back was turned, he knew that Master Hand would surely be upon him if he caused a scene. Straightening out his antenna as best he could, he stomped off to the cafeteria for lunch.

* * *

"Come on, come on… where is it?!"

Chef Kawasaki frantically ran around as he searched the kitchen. He was almost done with lunch and was a few morsels away from his long-awaited break. Now if he could only find that Endura Carrot…

"Let's see here... Deep-fried Shwaffle… Chinese cabbage… where is it, where  _is_  it?!" He checked the freezer. Nothing. The prep table? Nope. The pantry? No sign. Where did he put it?!

At this point, the poor chef was in a panic. He needed that Endura Carrot to finish this salad! Without that salad, his buffet would never be finished! If he could just…

...Wait.

Slowly, he looked down at his apron. There was the Endura Carrot nestled in the pocket, its stem poking cheekily up at him.

Chef Kawasaki let out a nervous laugh. "Well, would you look at that? It was… it was right here the whole time. Ahahaha… All right! Time to finish that—"

His words were interrupted by a strange tugging feeling in his back. His eyes widened as his stubby arms began to glow.  _No, no, nonono, not now_ —

Chef Kawasaki disappeared in a flash of light, taking his Endura Carrot with him.

* * *

"Ughh… where am I…?"

"Chef Kawasaki? All right!"

The chef opened his eyes. He was sitting on some kind of cloud, with light pink scenery as far as the eye could see. Standing in front of him was the angel knight Pit, looking very gleeful indeed. "Okay, Kawasaki! Time to dish up Samus in a stir fry!" said Pit.

"Okey-dokey!" Chef Kawasaki adjusted his toque and took out his trusty ladle. He looked up at the higher platform where Samus was, her suit glowing like a rainbow.

"...Um, Pit? You know she's got a Final Smash ready?" asked Chef Kawasaki, backing away slowly.

"Exactly. Which is why I need  _you_  to help me knock it out of her!" replied Pit, mirroring Kawasaki's movements.

"B-b-but I won't be able to get close to her without getting zapped!" stammered the cook.

"Just throw your plates or— _waugh_!"

Samus had jumped down from her perch and landed right in front of her opponent, keeping her arm cannon trained on them the whole while. Pit stumbled backwards and fell over, right into a pitfall trap he had forgotten about. He was now stuck, his upper half sticking out of the ground like a panicked, winged plant.

Chef Kawasaki looked worriedly at Pit, then at Samus, then back at Pit, and back at Samus again. "I… I… I'll assist you the best way I can!" he shouted. In a burst of bravery, he threw a plate right at Samus' head. It bounced harmlessly off her head and shattered on the ground.

"...Uh."

Samus pulled the trigger.

* * *

Chef Kawasaki fell back in the kitchen, now resembling a burnt squash. He groaned as he rolled over on his back. "You know what," he said to no one in particular, "forget the salad. I think I'll just stay here and… tend to my injuries, I guess."

The Endura Carrot in his hand crumbled into ash.

* * *

Bomberman trudged into the cafeteria, his anger from Wario's prank subsiding. Now only a dull gloom was left. He picked up a pair of tongs and slowly took some sautéed asparagus, not even flinching when a hungry Yoshi licked it up before it even touched his plate. He would have to settle for a veggie wrap.

He scanned the cafeteria, searching for a place to sit. In the corner of his eye, he could see an empty seat. Sitting at this table was a green-haired woman with a sword and a star-like creature. "Is this seat taken?" he asked them both.

"No, go ahead! I'm Lyn," said the green-haired woman. As Bomberman sat down, the star chirped, "Hi, mister! I'm Starfy!"

"Oh, um… hi, Starfy. I'm Bomberman," said Bomberman awkwardly. He tried to take a bite of his veggie wrap, but couldn't help but feel unnerved by the way the way Starfy was staring at him. His eyes were sparkling, and his mouth was wide open in a smile. "Can… can I help you?"

"I know who you are! You're Mister Bomberman!" replied Starfy, jumping up and down in his seat. "You're really famous!"

"F- _famous? Me_?!" said a shocked Bomberman.

"Uh-huh! Everyone in Pufftop knows you! You're like one of those superstars!"

" _Really_?!" Bomberman felt his face grow hot. He never knew that his adventures were that well known.

Lyn nodded. "It's true. In this world, you're quite the popular character."

"Wow…" Bomberman breathed. He was popular? A  _superstar_? Looking at Starfy gazing up at him made his heart swell with pride. But the events of the day took their toll on him as he sighed. "I sure wish it felt like that…" he mumbled.

Starfy looked confused. "What's wrong?" he asked, tilting his head to the side like a star-shaped puppy.

"It's just… do you ever feel like you got a raw deal?"

"Huh?" Starfy looked even more perplexed. Lyn did not say anything, but kept a thoughtful eye on the robot as he explained.

"It's like… there's this weird thing about being an Assist Trophy where everyone thinks it's the worst thing that can happen to you. And I  _know_  that's not the case, but everyone I've talked to feels like it is. Like it's just the dumping ground for the not good enough."

There was a long silence as Bomberman picked miserably at his veggie wrap. Then Lyn spoke up. "I know exactly how you feel."

Bomberman met her gaze. "You do?"

Lyn nodded solemnly "I've been an Assist Trophy since the beginning of the program. At first, it wasn't the ideal way to appear… But you know how I realized things weren't so bad?" She waited as Bomberman and Starfy hung on her words. "I have people worth fighting for."

"Really?" breathed the robot. "Who?"

"Oh, just some people. Both here and back home," she said with a smile. "As long as you have loved ones, wherever they are, know that they're thinking of you. And when you have that, then you can do anything."

"It's true!" chirped Starfy. "I was one of the first Assist Trophies, too! Back then, things were different. Assist Trophies were invincible. They couldn't get hurt… except for me. Everyone was able to beat me up… But I didn't care!" he said proudly. "I thought of Starly, and Moe, and all of my friends back in Pufftop, and I gave it my all! It's called being strong in the face of advicity!"

"Adversity, you mean," corrected Lyn.

Bomberman stared at his veggie wrap. He  _did_  have people back home. Knowing them, they'd be waiting on pins and needles to see him on the battlefield. And as aggravating as they could be, they were still his family. A fiery resolve filled his eyes. "I may not be a real Smasher, but I'll still fight as hard as I can!" he declared.

"See, that's the spirit!" said Lyn, taking a bite of her dish.

"In fact," he continued, "I won't lose! I'm not gonna  _blow_  it!"

Nobody laughed.

Bomberman quickly sat back down, face flushing. "Or, you know, maybe not…"

And so, the three of them enjoyed their lunch, content with their lot as long as they had each other.


	2. Dog Days

“ _Gone?!_ What do you mean, _gone?!_ ”

Jeff Andonuts winced as Dr. Wright shouted at him. The two were the same height, but with the look on the doctor’s face, Jeff wished he could sink into the floor. “I-I’m sorry, sir, I turned my back for two seconds and it just—”

“No, no, it’s okay, I don’t blame you,” replied Dr. Wright, although he was only partially paying attention to Jeff. His eyes were wide with panic. “Gone… missing… it’s only a puppy… who even knows…”

“Um, Dr. Wright?” asked Jeff timidly. “Perhaps we should—”

Dr. Wright suddenly turned to face the boy. “Does anyone else know about this?” he asked, gripping Jeff’s shoulders.

“Huh?” said Jeff. “Oh, er, uh, no, I was the only one who—”

“Okay—that’s very—we’re in it now—could be anywhere—” Dr. Wright took a deep breath to compose himself. He smoothed out his tall green hair and turned to face Jeff. “Okay. At this point in time, we can’t let _anyone_ else know about the Nintendog going missing. Not Baito, not Guile, not even Ness. And _especially_ not Master Hand. If _he_ were to find out…” He shuddered at the very thought. “What I want you to do right now is to go and find that dog. Do it quickly and clandestinely. Now go!”

Jeff nodded and dashed out the door, leaving Dr. Wright alone in the main lounge. They’d find the puppy soon… right?

* * *

 Jeff did not expect to start his afternoon on his hands and knees looking for a lost puppy under a bush, but he supposed experiences like these kept things interesting. Jeff had gone back outside to the courtyard, the last place he had seen the Nintendog. He had been on walking duty, and had noticed the sight of Diddy Kong flying above him with a jetpack made of barrels. He was pondering the physics of such a device, and was comparing the concept to the Bubble Monkey from back home when he had noticed something was wrong. The leash had gone slack, and the Nintendog was nowhere to be found.

Jeff mentally chastised himself for his moment of distraction. If he had only kept better watch, he wouldn’t be in this mess to begin with! The poor creature… Images of the helpless Nintendog in the clutches of someone like Ganondorf or Ridley filled Jeff’s head. He quickly shook them off. He didn’t have time to worry! He had to find the dog, and quickly!

“Pardon me, but what are you doing, scraping around on the ground like that?”

Jeff hastily got up to meet the speaker. Standing before him was a young boy, not much younger than he was, with short brown hair, a red tunic, and a sword at his hip. “Are you all right?” he asked.

“Oh, hello, Sablé Prince,” said Jeff, dusting himself off. “I’m actually just looking for… something.”

“Looking for something? Well, I can certainly help you with that,” said the prince. “What exactly are you looking for?”

“Oh, no, no, it’s nothing,” stammered Jeff. “It’s fine, I can handle it alone…”

“Preposterous!” responded the prince. “I certainly can’t ignore the plight of a friend. Now, what is it that you are looking for? Or is it… some _one?_ A lost companion, perhaps?”

Jeff sighed. As impetuous as the Sablé Prince was, he was definitely smarter than he let on. “You know the Nintendog? The little toy poodle? Well, you see… it, err, has… gone missing.”

“M- _missing?!_ ” cried the prince, jumping almost three feet in the air. “Wh—but—how—”

“I don’t know!” replied Jeff. “It was there one minute, and the next thing I knew, it was gone!”

The Sablé Prince put a hand to his chin in thought. “Hmmm… a missing dog in such a large mansion such as this… and with no shortage of scoundrels about, this Nintendog is in grave danger!”

“Yes, quite!” agreed Jeff. “But how will I search this whole mansion…?”

“Oh, you needn’t worry about that,” chuckled the prince. “I, the Prince of the Kingdom of Sablé, will assist you in your endeavors!” He extended his hand.

Jeff took the prince’s arm and shook it vigorously. “Oh, thank you, Prince! You’re a lifesaver!”

The prince smiled. “Think nothing of it. Now, then, down to business! We must find our missing friend, posthaste!”

Thus, the two set off in search of the lost Nintendog. They could only hope that the little puppy was unharmed…

* * *

 The boys stormed through the mansion in search of the poodle. Their first instinct was to simply ask the Duck Hunt duo for help, but Jeff reminded the prince that Dr. Wright had given him orders to keep their search confidential. At any rate, the bloodhound was in no mood to provide assistance, laughing at the two as he slammed the door in their faces.

So the boys set about, searching in every nook and cranny that the puppy might have been hiding, splitting up to have a better chance at finding it. They checked under beds, in cabinets, and behind sofas all over the grounds, but the dog was nowhere to be found. After searching both the East and West Wings with no results, they reunited in the foyer to strategize.

“Have you found it yet?” asked Jeff.

The Sablé Prince shook his head. “No such luck, I’m afraid. In such a large mansion, finding such a small dog has proven to be quite troublesome…”

“Indeed.” So the boys sat down, thinking about the next step. If they didn’t find the Nintendog soon, word would spread around. A missing Assist Trophy going missing was bad enough, but the Nintendog, of all of them? Master Hand would place the entire site under lockdown. Panic would ensue. And worst of all, some of the more tenderhearted among them would be inconsolable if the dog wasn’t found. Jeff thought of Isabelle, who had been an Assist Trophy in the last tournament, or his close friend Ness. Would Ness cry? He’d probably cry. The thought was enough to make Jeff’s stomach turn with anguish.

A thought suddenly occurred to the boy. “Hold on. What if we’re going about this the wrong way?”

The Sablé Prince looked confused. “Hmm? What do you mean?”

“What if,” explained Jeff, “instead of looking for the dog, we let the dog come to us? Like, perhaps we should—”

“—set up a pitfall to lure the dog out!” continued the prince. “Jeff, you’re a genius! Now, the only question is, where shall we place the bait?”

Jeff adjusted his glasses, making them gleam in the light. “I think I have an idea…”

* * *

 

After getting an assortment of green beans from Kirby (with the promise to pay him back later), the boys set up their trap right beside the doors to Chef Kawasaki’s kitchen. If the alluring smells of the kitchen didn’t lure the dog out from its hiding spot, then the scent of green beans would! For indeed, all dogs were attracted to the heavenly aroma of steamed green beans. Or, at least, so the Sablé Prince claimed. With a net on the ground operated by a pulley, the boys stood around the corner and waited.

And waited.

And waited some more.

“...How long will this take, exactly?” asked Jeff.

“Patience, now,” assured the Sablé Prince. “The dog should be coming any minute now…”

Exactly forty-three minutes passed. Still no dog.

“Okay, I’m starting to get a little worried.”

“Patience! It’ll come out soon—ah! Look!”

Sure enough, a shadow was approaching the bowl of beans. The two waited as it drew closer and closer. Jeff’s hand gripped the rope. They could hear the bowl scraping along the floor as the figure inspected its contents.

“ _Now!_ ”

Jeff yanked the rope, setting off the trap and hoisting the figure up off the ground. They could hear a surprised shout, followed by angry thrashing about.

“Haha!” cried the Sablé Prince, running towards the scene. “We have you now, you little—you little…”

The prince stopped dead in his tracks, his voice trailing off. His face had gone a sickly yellow color.

“What? What is it?” asked Jeff.

The Sablé Prince turned to Jeff. “As… as it happens, we did not find the Nintendog after all,” he muttered.

“We _didn't?!_ Then who's in the net?”

“Yes, ah… you might want to see for yourself.” said the prince. The boys rounded the corner to check on the net, and what they saw made Jeff's blood run cold.

A young girl with long, dark pigtails and wearing a red dress was currently caught in the net, trying to break free. And currently, she did not look very pleased.

“Oh, dear.”

Ashley glared at the two. “Get me down. Now.”

“R-right!” The prince drew his sword and cut the net, causing the witch to flop down the floor. She dusted herself and glared daggers at the two. “Explain yourselves,” she growled. “Quickly.”

Jeff cowered behind the Sablé Prince, who tried his best to look brave. “Ah, good day, Ashley!” he greeted in the closest he could get to a princely, civil tone.

Ashley’s eyes bored into the prince. To someone like the Black Knight or Alucard, they would have seen her as a very angry little girl. But royal though he was, the Sablé Prince couldn’t help but be chilled to his very soul. “We’re looking for the Nintendog,” he got out at last. “We tried to use the net to catch it.”

The witch was silent for a moment. “…Why green beans?” she asked.

“Isn’t it obvious? No canine can resist the allure of green beans!” said the Sablé Prince proudly, putting his hands on his hips.

“Hold on a moment,” cut in Jeff. “Ashley, why were _you_ checking around the beans?”

“I needed them for a spell I’m working on,” said the witch plainly. “What about it?”

“Oh, no! No, nonono!” stammered Jeff quickly. A thought came to him. “Say, um, Ashley… You have magic, right? Why don’t you help us look for him?”

There was a long silence as Ashley stared. The prince coughed. “...Please?”

“Go away.”

“Excellent idea. Farewell!”

So the boys fled the scene as quickly as possible for fear that Ashley would try a new hex on them. They rounded the corner and didn’t stop until they were positive that Ashley hadn’t followed them. They found themselves back in the foyer, panting and wheezing.

“Well, it seems we’re back to square one, as it were,” said the Sablé Prince, catching his breath. “What to do now…?”

So the boys meandered down the halls, thinking about where to go from there. Jeff glanced out the window, noticing the Duck Hunt dog chasing a ball outside. Time was running out. If he didn’t find the Nintendog soon, who knew how the public would react? They needed a new strategy, and quickly. Jeff looked over at the Sablé Prince. “So… do you have any other ideas?” he asked tentatively.

The prince’s eyes were closed, deep in thought. “It doesn't make sense. The Nintendog has to be around here somewhere! It's not as if someone would just steal an innocent puppy…”

Jeff nodded in agreement. “Maybe you’re right. I mean, who among us is _that_ evil?”

Jeff’s thoughts turned to the likes of Dr. Wily, who was not above kidnapping innocents to achieve his goals. He thought of Ghirahim, a merciless, violent demon lord with a seemingly unquenchable bloodlust. He thought of Mother Brain, a brain-like supercomputer bent on bringing the entire universe to its knees.

...There were a lot more villains than Jeff remembered.

He turned to the Sablé Prince. From the look on the royal’s face, he had realized the same thing. “But who would be so vile as to steal an innocent puppy…?”

* * *

 

“Samurai! Samurai Goroh!”

Jeff pounded on the lanky man’s door. No answer.

“Goroh! Open the door!”

Still nothing.

The Sablé Prince stepped forward. “Allow me, Jeff.” With the elegance and finesse expected of a young boy raised in nobility, he rapped twice on the door with his knuckle. “Excuse me, Samurai Goroh, but would you be so kind as to open the door?” he asked calmly and politely.

The silence that followed was thick enough to cut with a knife. The prince knocked again. “Samurai Goroh? Please let us in. We’re looking for the Nintendog, and we’re wondering if you might know anything.”

Yet more silence.

The prince took a deep breath. “Open up, you cad,” he said, still in that polite, princely tone.

“Go away,” came a voice behind the door.

The Sablé Prince huffed. He turned to Jeff. “It seems our friend refuses to assist us in our endeavor. But not to worry!” he said with a wink. “I have my ways.”

“What are you going to do?” asked Jeff. Would he explain the situation and hope the racer understood?  Perhaps he would turn into a frog and win the man over with his charm and cuteness! Or maybe he would turn into a snake and force the information out of him?

The prince reached into his tunic, pulling out a hefty bag of money. Jeff’s eyes went wide. It was more money than he had ever seen in one place, or even his entire life. The prince added a couple more coins to the top of the bag. “Do you think that should be enough?” he asked.

“Wha… How much money do you _have?_ ” asked an incredulous Jeff.

“Oh, this?” asked the prince, glancing at the sack of coins. “This is just some pocket money I had on me. It should do the trick.” He rapped on the door again, oblivious to the look on Jeff’s face. “Oh, Goroh! If you tell us something, we’ll be able to offer you compensation!”

The door opened a crack. “What kind of compensation?” came the racer’s gruff voice.

“Oh, just a _small amount_ of cash,” said the Sablé Prince, jingling the rather large amount of cash he held in his hand. “If you would be so kind…?”

The door opened, revealing the rather imposing frame of the F-Zero racer. His pince-nez glasses nearly fell off at the sight of the prince’s offering. “ _Holy—_ h-how much _is_ that?!”

“Oh, just some spare change I had on me,” said the prince, a gleam in his eye. “We'll gladly pay you for anything you might know about the Nintendog…”

“Uh, the Nintendog?” asked Goroh, scratching his head. “Hmmm… Well, I can’t say I’ve seen it around…” He reached for the bag of money, but the prince stopped him.

“Are you quite sure?” he asked, jingling the sack of money he held in his hand. “Anything _else_ you might recall? _Anything_ at all?”

“Uhhh…” The samurai racked his brains trying to remember. After being summoned for a battle, he’d gone for a walk, and then he’d seen—

“Oh yeah! Now I remember! I think I saw that little masked weirdo walking around…”

“M-masked weirdo?” asked Jeff. “Who do you mean?”

“You know, that one guy that floats around and wears that creepy mask! I saw him around holdin’ one of those little dog carrier things!”

Jeff felt his stomach drop. Skull Kid was known among the assistants for being mischievous, troublesome, and generally unhelpful both on and off the battlefield. If he had the Nintendog in his clutches… well, who _knew_ what he would do!

He turned to the Sablé Prince, whose face had turned very pale. He dropped the sack of coins in Samurai Goroh’s hand. “Y-yes, that will do. Thank you, Goroh.” They closed the door and immediately took off down the hall. They had to find Skull Kid, and quickly!

* * *

 

After searching in all of Skull Kid’s favorite spots (a maple stump just west of the mansion being his absolute favorite), Jeff and the Sablé Prince finally found him in the courtyard, crouching over a bundle of sticks by a pond. Upon noticing the two, the imp slowly turned to face them. “What do you want?” he asked.

The prince kept a grip on his sword. “Skull Kid,” he began, keeping his voice as steady as he could. “We are looking for a certain canine companion of ours. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about its disappearance, would you?”

At once, Skull Kid became very nervous, sweating and scratching at his head. “Uh… Nope! I haven’t seen any dogs around…”

Neither boy was convinced. “We know you’re lying,” said Jeff. “What did you do to him?”

“I told you, I don’t have anything to do with it!” retorted Skull Kid, who seemed to be slowly floating away. “You guys sure are persistent!”

“Skull Kid…” began Jeff slowly. “If you’re lying to us, and you did have something to do with him, then we’ll have to get Dr. Wright involved. And you know how _he_ is. He’ll go straight to Master Hand. Now we’re going to ask you again: Where is the Nintendog?”

Skull Kid slowly lowered to the ground, defeated. “Alright,” he muttered. “You got me. I found the dog wandering around outside. It looked pretty lonely, so I figured I’d set it up on a little playdate…”

“A playdate?” repeated the Sablé Prince. “With whom…?”

“You know,” answered Skull Kid, “that big, black bow-wow creature that hangs around.”

“Bow-wow creature—!!” Jeff’s blood ran cold as he realized who the imp was referring to. A Chain Chomp, a large, iron dog-like creature with huge teeth was also an Assist Trophy in the tournament, known for its propensity towards biting anything and everything it saw. And the Nintendog was likely at its mercy. “Y-you…!”

“Oh, don’t worry,” said Skull Kid, now beginning to float away again. “I’m pretty sure the Bow-Wow’s bark is worse than its _bite!_ Eee hee hee hee!” And with those words, Skull Kid floated away to cause mischief elsewhere.

The Sablé Prince had blanched. “Jeff…” he whispered, facing away from Jeff. “If the Skull Kid is telling the truth, then…” He trailed off. It was all too clear exactly what would happen.

Or what might have happened already.

“The Chain Chomp…” said Jeff, eyes wild with panic. “After the last tournament, Dr. Wright declared it was too dangerous to keep around, so we keep it someplace separate…”

“Someplace separate?” asked the Sablé Prince. “Where?”

* * *

 

It was outside, in a fenced-in area, that the Chain Chomp was kept. Due to numerous warnings from residents of the Mushroom Kingdom, it was determined that the metallic beast was too dangerous to keep with the rest of the Assist Trophies. And so it stood, alone in a twenty-by-twenty-foot field. And that was where Jeff and the Sablé Prince’s search led them.

“There it is,” whispered Jeff. “Do you see the Nintendog?”

The Sablé Prince scanned over the field. “Hmmm… I can’t see it from here. We should try another angle.”

The two of them crept around the perimeter of the field, taking caution that the Chain Chomp didn't notice them. The beast paid them no mind, being preoccupied with something on the ground. At last, the Sablé Prince’s eyes widened, and he tapped Jeff’s arm for attention. There was the Nintendog, standing there and wagging its tail without a care in the world.

“Oh, thank _goodness,_ ” whispered Jeff. But a new dilemma arose. The Nintendog was safe, but in incredible danger. How were they to rescue the Nintendog while carefully avoiding the Chain Chomp?

“It seems we’re going to have to split up,” said Jeff. “One of us should distract the Chain Chomp, while the other goes in and gets the puppy.”

“Very well,” replied the Sablé Prince. “I shall rescue the puppy while you distract the Chain Chomp.”

“Wait, _what?!_ ” asked Jeff. “Why do you get to rescue it?”

“Because _you,_ ” said the prince, now climbing over the fence, “have bottle rockets with which to distract the beast. Now be quick! I’m going in.”

As the Sablé Prince crept towards the Nintendog, Jeff set to work preparing rockets. He lit the fuse and watched as a rocket sailed over the field. The poodle immediately stood at attention, wagging its tail and barking at it as it flew overhead. The Chain Chomp, meanwhile, leapt up to lunge at the rocket, biting down to seize it with its teeth. There was a soft crunch, and the pieces of the rocket fell to the ground like paper.

The Sablé Prince froze where he stood. Jeff tried (and failed) not to imagine himself in the rocket’s place. The Chain Chomp paused where it stood and sniffed at the air. Sensing no other danger, it returned to the poodle’s side, yawning. “Fire another rocket!” whisper-shouted the Sablé Prince.

This time, Jeff elected to use his multi-bottle rockets to distract the Chain Chomp. The rockets flew over their heads, the Chomp eagerly chasing after them. Before the Nintendog could follow suit, the Sablé Prince scooped it up and leapt over the fence like his life depended on it. As he landed, the poodle fell out of his arms and landed safely on the ground.

“We did it!” breathed Jeff as the Sablé Prince came running over. The boys celebrated their success. The Nintendog had been found and rescued from mortal peril! Nothing could sully their victory!

“Ah, yes, the puppy! Where did the little scamp go?” asked the prince.

There was the puppy, waddling back through the fence and right towards the Chain Chomp.

“ _Wait a minute—_ ”

Too late. The poodle had approached the Chain Chomp. Jeff and the Sablé Prince could only watch in horror as the metallic beast drew nearer to the dog, its toothed maw opening wider and wider…!

The Nintendog curled into a ball to rest, the Chain Chomp protectively draping its chain around it.

“...What.”

Indeed, the Chain Chomp didn’t seem to mean harm to its smaller companion. In fact, it seemed almost fond of the puppy. The boys could only watch in astonishment as the puppy got up and began to chase the larger creature around, occasionally nipping at the chain that trailed behind.

At last the Sablé Prince spoke. “Is this really okay?” he asked Jeff.

Jeff was silent as he watched the two canines play. He’d heard from Mario that the Chain Chomp was a dangerous creature, but… here it just looked like a big, friendly, playful dog.

...How long had it been left here, anyway?

“Maybe… maybe leaving it out here was a mistake,” said Jeff at last. “I mean, look at it.” He gestured to the two canines, barking and playing in the afternoon sun. “They’re so happy together."

The Sablé Prince gazed at them. “It would appear so,” he said solemnly. “Be that as it may… I still think it’s far too dangerous to let the Chain Chomp indoors.”

“Then what do we do?”

The boys thought for a moment. It was clearly too dangerous to let it inside. But at the same time, they clearly couldn’t just leave it out here, all alone. What were they to do?

“What it needs,” said Jeff, “is to socialize with like-minded creatures.”

“Indeed,” said the Sablé Prince, nodding his head. “Someone who’s playful and sweet, but also capable of wanton destruction.”

Jeff pondered on the other boy’s words. “...Kirby?”

“Hmmm… no, someone who’s destruction is a tad less… apocalyptic.”

 “Yeah, I see what you mean. Someone a little more low-key. Something like, a super-powered animal or—”

Jeff stopped as the words left his tongue. He glanced at the Chain Chomp, snoozing away with the Nintendog. He locked eyes with the Sablé Prince.

“I have an idea!” they both said in unison.

* * *

 

“Um… pardon me?”

Jeff stared up at the pink-haired nurse at the entrance to the Pokémon Day Care. The Chain Chomp’s chain was held tight in his hand. To his right, the Sablé Prince held the Nintendog in his arms as if it were his newborn child. “Yes, we'd like to register little Bow-Wow at the Day Care,” said the Sablé Prince.

“O-oh??” said the nurse, staring at the iron ball. “What… what type of Pokémon is it?”

“It’s, uh, not a Pokémon,” said Jeff. “It’s a Chain Chomp.” The Chain Chomp barked in agreement.

“A Chain Chomp.”

“Yes,” said the boys in unison.

“...Um.”

The Sablé Prince reached for his wallet, but Jeff stopped him. “Not yet,” he whispered. He turned back to the nurse. “I can assure you that dear Bow-Wow has been properly trained. I promise.”

The nurse looked down at the Chain Chomp, its sharp teeth gleaming in the light. “I… suppose it’s all right. I mean, I _think_ it’s a steel-type…”

And so, the gates to the Day Care opened, allowing Bow-Wow to roam free among the Pokémon, the Sablé Prince allowing the Nintendog to follow suit. They leapt forward with newfound exuberance, eagerly sniffing at the ground and chasing after a cat with a coin on its head. At last they came to rest off to the side, a small avian Pokémon resting on top of the Chain Chomp’s iron body.

Jeff and the Sablé Prince breathed a sigh of relief. Ultimately, it had been a good day after all.


	3. Inventory Duty

The sun was setting over the horizon over the grounds. The last of the matches were wrapping up, and Chef Kawasaki had just finished cooking up dinner for everyone, whether they were a fighter, Assist Trophy, or a Pokémon at the Day Care.

The assistants were heading back to the lounge after a long day of being summoned for battles and other, more low-key chores. Currently, they were tucking into a heaping serving of double-layer beef lasagna, making idle chit-chat and swapping stories of adventures in their homeworlds.

"And then, that creep goes and kidnaps our grandpa!" said Callie, an Inkling girl with long black tentacles and one-half of a famous pop duo. She was talking to Baito, who was listening with wide eyes as he soaked in all the details. "So then me, Marie and Agent 3 had to bust our siphons to rescue him  _and_  the Great Zapfish! And  _then…_ "

Eventually, dinner ended, and the table was cleared. The Assist Trophies went their separate ways to relax. One assistant, Spring Man, was heading back to his room to unwind—quite literally, in his case! It had been a long, match-filled day, and he in particular had been summoned quite often. Kirby vs. Shulk, Marth vs. Zelda… Punching, dodging, rushing… As much as loved the matches, at this point he just wanted to relax and chow down on some quality pizza.

As he turned to go, the voice of Dr. Wright called his attention. "Hold on, Spring Man! Just a moment…"

Spring Man walked up to the green-haired man, confusion visible through his mask. "Huh? Whatcha need, Doc Wright?"

Dr. Wright paid no attention to his new nickname. "You're on inventory duty tonight," he said, not looking up from his clipboard.

Spring Man felt as though his legs would give out. "Aw, come  _on_ , Doc,  _inventory?!_  At  _this_  hour?!"

"Oh, don't worry," dismissed the advisor with a wave of his baton. "It's just a matter going down to our expansive inventory, counting the eighty-plus items we have in rotation for this tournament, and verifying their quantities and condition. Nothing too difficult!" There was an almost annoying cadence to top off that sentence.

The spring-armed man remained unconvinced. "I dunno, Doc, it's late and I'm tired and I—"

"But just in case," interrupted Dr. Wright, "I've placed two other assistants on inventory to help you. Isaac! Phosphora!" he called out. On cue, the lightning-wielding warrior and the Venus Adept came out from the crowd, the former looking much less enthusiastic than the latter.

"I'm not too thrilled about this either, Bouncer. Let's just get this over with," grouched Phosphora as she blew past him. Isaac could only offer an apologetic shrug.

But Spring Man, ever the optimist, simply shrugged it off. "No problemo! We'll be in and out in no time! Come on, team!"

"Yes, yes, make sure you hurry along," called Dr. Wright as the three set off. He turned back to his clipboard, then suddenly remembered something urgent. "Ah, wait! Do be careful not to—"

The trio had already left. No one was there.

"...Get lost…"

* * *

"So, how many items do ya think are in there?" asked Spring Man as he walked, hands clasped behind his head.

Isaac shrugged. "Last time I was here, there were, like… a bunch. Do they still have those little Franklin Badges?"

Phosphora nodded. "Ever since you left, they added a buncha new items into circulation. Back Shields, Killer Eyes, Ore Clubs, Fairy Bottles… oh, yeah, and they seemed really excited about adding those Special Flag things."

"I'm sorry, what?" asked the perplexed Adept. "What even  _are_ half of those?

Well, we're about to find out!" said Spring Man, for the group had reached the door to the inventory. He pulled out the key that Dr. Wright had given him and unlocked the door. It creaked as he pushed it open. The room was dark, nothing visible but a bit of plaster that had come loose long ago. The spring-armed man fumbled around for the light switch and turned it on.

Now that the lights were on, it became clear that the storeroom was much, much bigger than it appeared. An endless sea of crates, labeled with the names of different items, stretched out as far as all three assistants could see. The walls were pale and unpainted, making the room seem big and cramped at the same time. It was totally silent, save for the buzzing of the lights above.

Isaac, Phosphora, and Spring Man stood there in the entrance, gaping at the sight. Clearly, it was going to be a very long night.

* * *

"So what're these? Bumpers?"

The trio had come across another crate, this one filled with the round, colorful objects as found in pinball machines. Indeed, one of them had been placed on the crate, just below the label.

"How many do ya think are in here?" asked Spring Man.

Phosphora crouched down to look. "It says here that these crates have a max capacity of thirty. So there's… twelve crates in total. Adds up to three hundred bumpers in total. You gettin' that?"

Isaac, holding a clipboard, was dutifully scribbling down the information. "Didn't Dr. Wright also say that we need to check the items' condition?"

"Leave it to me!" Spring Man reached into one of the crates to pull out a bumper. He placed it on the ground, setting it in place with a click. He backed up a couple feet, then rushed at it with all his speed. Predictably, it bounced him away with a clanking sound. Not quite as predictably, Spring Man was sent careening into another set of crates, sending them all down onto his head.

Isaac winced. "Spring Man, are you okay?"

But Spring Man stood and dusted himself off as though nothing had happened. "Naw, it's okay! I've taken worse hits. But…" He looked around at his feet. Dozens of soccer balls had fallen out of the crates when they broke. "Uhh… how many are these?"

After cleaning up and counting the soccer balls, the trio continued on their way, taking stock of the Bombchus (mercifully deactivated), drills (Phosphora noted that the word "arm" had been crossed off the label), and boomerangs (no matter how Spring Man threw it, it wouldn't come back to him).

As they were busy inspecting a crate of Beetles, a glint of metal caught Isaac's eye. Carefully shoving aside a crate, he reached forward to get a hold of it.

"So, like, how do these even—" Phosphora noticed Isaac fiddling around the crate. "Isaac, what are you doing?"

"Oh. My. Gosh. Guys, check this out!" In the boy's hands, he proudly held what looked like a large rocket launcher, but with no obvious way to activate it. Its body was old and cracked, worn by the passing of time.

"...What is it?" asked Spring Man.

"It's a Cracker Launcher! From the Brawl tournament!" Seeing the confusion on their faces, Isaac continued, "It's like this launcher thing that shot out  _huge_  fireworks, like  _bwoosh-bweeoo_ … Aww, man, what's this even  _doing_  here?"

"I think they retired that thing right after Brawl," said Phosphora.

"Aww, what?" said the Venus Adept. "This was one of the best ones! Here, lemme show you."

He tried to fire it as a demonstration, but there was only a dull clicking sound as a few sparks fell out of the barrel. Only the blue lights around the barrel glowed faintly. "Doesn't work anymore," Isaac mumbled. He sighed, gazing into the distance. "Man, those were the days…"

"Really?" asked Spring Man with genuine interest.

"Oh, yeah!" nodded Isaac. "Back in those days, us Assist Trophies, we couldn't get hurt in battles, so we were free to attack as much as we wanted! Of course, we only really had one or two attacks…"

"Oh, yeah?" asked Spring Man. At this point even the previously apathetic Phosphora was listening.

"Yeah!" said Isaac, smiling widely. "Actually, that reminds me of this one time…"

And so, Isaac regaled the two with stories of battles past, tales of triumph and defeat, and anecdotes of antics in their downtime. As the trio reached the Home-Run Bats. Isaac had just wrapped up a story involving Samurai Goroh on kitchen duty.

"And we couldn't get rid of the smell, no matter how much we scrubbed!" finished Isaac as Spring Man laughed. "Jill couldn't even  _look_  at a mangosteen for weeks after!" He paused for a bit. "I wonder how she's doing…"

"O-oh yeah, Jill." said Phosphora. "She's one of the ones that didn't make it to the next tournament, right?"

Isaac nodded. "I don't think she even got invited to this one. I know Resetti resigned, something about his health." He brought a hand to his chin in thought. "Ummm… that reminds me. I've been meaning to ask you guys something…"

"Uh-huh."

"It's kind of a dumb question, though…"

"It can't be  _that_  dumb," said the spring-armed man cheerfully. "Just ask!"

"...Okay. Here goes." Isaac took a deep breath. "How do people in your world stay on the ground?"

"...Come again?" asked Phosphora.

"The people. How do they not fall off?"

There was a long silence. "What," said Spring Man and Phosphora in unison.

"Look, your worlds are round, apparently," said Isaac. "So, like, how do the people on the bottom of the planet not fall off?"

Spring Man and Phosphora stared at the boy. Neither of them knew how to respond. Then Phosphora erupted into raucous laughter. "Y-y-you're  _serious?!_ " she gasped.

"Y-yeah, like, Weyard is flat…"

Phosphora continued to laugh. " _Ahahahaha!_ Oh, gods, he's a flat-earther!" It was the first time she'd felt entertained all night. "It's  _gravity_ , ya dingus!"

"I mean, I  _knew_  that," said Isaac defensively, "but I wasn't sure if it… if it worked on the other side…" He looked to Spring Man for defense, but to his dismay, the spring-armed man was laughing as well. "Spring Man?! Come  _on!_ "

"I'm sorry, man," said Spring Man, wiping a tear from his eye, "but that's the funniest thing I've heard all week! How does it work on the other side…" he chuckled.

"All right, all right, I get it," said Isaac. At this point, even he was trying not to laugh. "Let's… let's just get this over with."

So the trio continued their inventory duties, taking stock of everything from Gooey Bombs to Hocotate Bombs, from Healing Fields to Healing Sprouts, from Super Mushrooms to Super Scopes to Superspicy Curry, and everything in between.

"Ugh,  _finally_ ," said Phosphora, checking off the Rage Blasters on her clipboard. "Are we done? I think we're done." A small wave of relief and celebration swept over the trio, with high-fives and fist bumps going around.

"Alright, it's been a long night," began Spring Man, "and lemme tell ya, it is a furnace in here. So let's make like a banana and  _split!_ " He stretched out his arm and pointed at the exit to punctuate his declaration.

"...Uh, Spring Man, where are you pointing?" asked Isaac.

"What? Oh, I'm pointing right there, at the—at the exit…"

But to Spring Man's surprise, and subsequent panic, he was not pointing at the exit. He was simply pointing down a long hallway that seemed to go on forever. His springy arm dropped to the floor. "Oh… oh, no."

"What? What is it?!" asked Phosphora, although she already knew the answer. Spring Man turned to them, his face grave.

"We're totally lost."

* * *

_Bouncer's Log, Day 16._

_How we've survived for this long, I do not know. Perhaps fate has smiled on us. But now our food supply is low. I haven't smelled pizza in months. Does anyone even know we're down here? I can only hope that—_

"Spring Man, what are you doing?"

Spring Man looked at Isaac. "Oh, I was just doing one of those apocalyptic logs. You know, to suit the atmosphere!"

"But we've only been down here for… wait, how long  _have_  we been down here?!"

"Speaking of atmosphere," cut in Phosphora, "this place is so stuffy! Don't they have a fan down here?"

"You can say that again," replied Isaac, tugging at his scarf. "Man, I wish Ivan was here…"

"Aw, don't worry, guys! We just gotta, um…" He stared at the multitude of crates that lay before him. How big  _was_  this place, anyways? "We just gotta… go this way." He started walking to his left.

And so, the three assistants walked, meandering between the walls of crates, trying to find the exit. The pale walls with their chipped paint felt like they were pressing in on the trio, and the buzzing sound of the lights above drilled itself into their heads. And all the while, the musty air hung around in a stale miasma.

The trio was not in the highest of spirits, to say the least.

Suddenly, Phosphora abruptly stopped. She turned to peer at a crate on her right. "What… what does this say, Isaac?"

Isaac looked at the crate. "Uhhh… POW Blocks. Why do you ask?"

"Okay, something's not right here," said Phosphora, panic edging into her voice. "I'm like ninety percent sure we've passed that box three times already. I'm telling you, something's  _wrong_  here!"

"Calm down, Phosphora," said Isaac, keeping his own voice as steady as he could. "I'm pretty sure the POW Blocks were next to the Pitfall seeds over here." He tapped the crate he was leaning against.

"Uh, Isaac?" said Spring Man. "Those are Ray Guns."

"Hmmm?" Sure enough, the crate was labeled "Ray Guns" in big red stencil letters. "Huh," said the Venus Adept with a shrug. "Look at that. Ray Guns. Yeah, never mind, we're screwed."

"Okay, guys, don't panic," said Spring Man as Phosphora threw her hands up. "Look, I know things look bad, but we can still find a way out of this! We can—"

" _boing?_ "

All eyes turned to the source of the sudden inquiry. A small creature with a big nose, whiskers, and a single hair with a red bow had waddled onto the scene without warning. It stared up at the trio with beady, inquisitive eyes. " _hi ho,_ " it spoke in an odd voice.

Spring Man was the first to react. "What the heck," he said.

"...A Mr. Saturn?" said Isaac, scratching his head. "What's it doing here?"

" _i live down here_ ," squeaked the little creature. " _big maze to explore._ "

"You…  _live_  down here?" asked Phosphora.

Mr. Saturn nodded. " _ran away from purple dragon, ding. came here to put down roots_."

"Wait, wait, wait," said Isaac. "You ran away to come here? ...How long ago was this, exactly?"

Mr. Saturn thought for a bit. " _today is what day?_ " it asked.

"It's Tuesday."

" _hmmm…_ " Mr. Saturn drew circles on the ground with a tiny foot. " _i came here looooong time ago!_ " it declared.

Isaac opened his mouth as if to say something but closed it again. Phosphora and Spring Man, meanwhile, were still staring at the creature with bewildered expressions on their faces. "Do you… know a way outta here?" asked Phosphora.

Mr. Saturn nodded, much more vigorously. " _this place big, big. but i know everywhere here. follow saturn!_ " It waddled away, towards the crate of Beastballs.

Spring Man stared at the little creature. "Are you sure we should be following that… thing?"

Phosphora shrugged. "Anything to get us out of this hellhole. Plus, that Jeff guy told me that his species are supposed to be super smart." She glanced at Mr. Saturn, who was lying on its back, staring at the ceiling. "I hope he wasn't pranking me."

It was certainly an odd sight, three assistants, each powerful in their own right, being led by a waddling head. Mr. Saturn led the trio through the labyrinth of crates, turning left and right at seemingly random intervals. They walked past Green Shells, Spiny Shells, and even the retired Red Shells. They marched between crates filled with Smoke Balls, Poké Balls, and Party Balls. The smell of gunpowder coming from the boxes of explosive items wafted through the stale air.

Suddenly, Mr. Saturn stopped, nearly making Isaac trip over it. " _we here, ding,_ " it squeaked. Sure enough, there was the door, as plain and wooden as they'd left it some time ago. Spring Man could've sworn it was glowing.

"Oh my gods, we're finally out," gasped Phosphora as she staggered out of the storeroom, Isaac and Spring Man stumbling out behind her. At long last, fresh air and sweet freedom!

Isaac turned around to face Mr. Saturn, "Oh, man, you're a lifesaver, Mr. Saturn! I… I'd shake your hand, but, uh…"

Mr. Saturn took the boy's hand in its foot to shake. " _it okay. you aaaaall fixed now. zoom!_ " It waved goodbye as the assistants left the storeroom. " _come back anytime, ding!_ " it called out after them.

"Man, am I glad that we're finally outta there," said Spring Man, hands clasped behind his head. Isaac and Phosphora nodded in agreement. The three of them walked past the rooms of still-sleeping Smashers.

"You know, I'm… I'm feelin' a real connection with the three of us right now. Like that whole thing we just went through, I felt a real… a real spiritual connection, ya know?"

Isaac and Phosphora glanced at each other, then back to Spring Man. "I mean… kindaaaaa?" said Phosphora tentatively.

"I guess?" shrugged Isaac. Neither of them quite knew how to respond. There was a long silence.

"...So, do you wanna hang out?" asked Spring Man.

Both of them nodded. "Oh, yeah, totally."

"Ah! There you are! I got worried when you didn't show up!"

There was Dr. Wright, running towards them, looking as though he hadn't slept in quite a while. "Oh my stars, don't tell me you got lost in there…!"

"Ehhhh, we got a little lost," said Phosphora, "but we got out okay."

"R-really?" Dr. Wright blinked. "Oh. Well, in that case…" He took the clipboard from Spring Man. "Hmm. Yes. Good job, you three. I may keep you in mind for next time."

"Oh, no, no, Doc," said Spring Man, "you don't have to…"

"Come now, Spring Man," chuckled Dr. Wright, "Don't be so modest—"

"No, seriously, you  _don't_  have to."

"At any rate," continued the green-haired man, "you three had better rest up. We've got a full day ahead of us, so…"

Isaac yawned. "Man, you're right. I cannot wait to get a good night's sleep so I—"

Dr. Wright looked up, a puzzled look on his face. "Night?" he asked. "What do you mean? It's almost seven in the morning."

All three assistants turned to stare at the doctor, mouths agape in identical expressions of shock. "I'm sorry,  _what?_ " asked Spring Man. "Y-y-you said  _seven?!_ "

"Yes." Sure enough, the digital clock on the wall read 6:48, and the sun was peeking its rays through the window.

"Wh—huh—but I— _how?!_ " The three of them were at a loss. Surely, they couldn't have been stuck in the storeroom for  _that_  long?!

"Yes, yes, it's an unfortunate enchantment on the storeroom. Blame the organizers for not bothering to fix it," said Wright. He gazed sympathetically at the assistants that stood before him, looking fatigued and worn out as they were. "I… I suppose you can take the day off. But just this once, mind you."

Spring Man looked at Dr. Wright as though he'd just told them Christmas was coming early. "R- _really?_  You mean it?!"

"Yes, I'm positive," replied Dr. Wright. "I'm sure I can get some of the other assistants to fill in for you. Now hurry along, get some rest, you three."

There was a general chorus of "thank you"s and relieved sighs as the assistants went their separate ways to catch up on the precious, precious sleep they'd missed. Dr. Wright watched them go, then turned back to his clipboard with a nod.

"Note: ask Crazy Hand to remove that maze enchantment on item storage. April Fool's was months ago."


	4. Ashley Makes a Friend?

The sun rose on the Smash Mansion, bathing the sky in pink and blue. All across the grounds, Smashers, Assist Trophies, and Pokémon alike were waking up to a beautiful morning. Baito, who could always be counted on to be one of the first awake, was sitting in the main lounge idly stirring a cup of coffee. He looked out the window at the sun peeking over the mountains, gently kissing the landscape with its light. The rabbit smiled as the room was bathed in the rosy glow of the dawn. He knew deep within himself that today was going to be a good day.

Meanwhile, in a completely different room, a young girl with long dark hair was lying face-down in her bed, lightly snoring as the sun's rays shone through her window and lit up the room.

The moment the light caressed the curtains, they magically drew themselves shut, sending the bedroom into darkness once again. The girl snoozed on.

At the foot of the girl's bed, a wooden scepter with a bright red orb at the head stirred. It wobbled and trembled when the light touched it. The moment the curtains closed, it stopped for a moment, then fell to the floor. Then there was a burst of red smoke, and in the scepter's place stood a little red imp wielding a trident. He rubbed his eyes and stretched.

"Good morning, starshine!" he said to no one in particular. "The sun says hello!" He blinked, looking around at the dark room. "Whoa. Or maybe the sun's givin' us the cold shoulder today…" The imp looked at the window, still covered by the curtains. "Oh, well,  _there's_  the problem!" He flew up to the window and drew them open, letting the morning light flood the bedroom.

"Honestly, Ashley, I don't get why you gotta close the blinds so early. Sunlight's good for you, you know. I know all our spellbooks say that potions are best brewed by the light of the moon, but I read that the light of the sun can do wonders for your skin and improve your mood! And," he added under his breath, "goodness knows that your mood could use improving…"

Ashley was silent, for she was still fast asleep.

"...And the stuff in the sun's rays helps you produce vitamin D, so it's bound to—h- _hey!_  You're still sleeping?!" The imp bounced over to Ashley's bedside and poked her with his trident's pommel. "Ashley, wake up."

There was no answer. Ashley turned over in her sleep.

"Rise and shine, Ashley!"

Still nothing.

"Wakey wakey, eggs and bakey!"

At last, the witch stirred. She slowly sat up and rubbed the sleep out of her eyes. "Red, what time is it?" she asked.

"It's sunrise!" replied Red. It was very clear which of the duo was a morning person. "It's a beautiful day to do whatever we want! Or at least until someone summons us!" He pointed his trident at the window. The sun was a bit higher now, the clouds lit up with gold. "Ahhh, look at it, Ashley!" sighed Red, floating over to the windowsill and resting his head in his hands. "Isn't it beautiful? Doesn't it just…  _inspire_  you?"

"Not really, no," came Ashley's flat response.

"I—um—well." Red faltered. "Well, at any rate, you're awake, so it's time to get up and meet everyone for breakfast! I hear it's banana pancakes today!"

"...Okay."

After getting dressed, the duo walked into the main lounge, where Baito was sitting with his mug of coffee. Beside him, an armadillo with a turquoise bandana and a leather jacket sat leaning back into his chair, feet propped up on the table.

"Good morning, Ashley! And Red, too!" chirped Baito, raising his mug. The armadillo said nothing, but simply tipped his hat in greeting.

"Hey, everyone!" waved Red excitedly. He nudged Ashley, who simply waved her hand in response. "So, what's on the schedule today?"

"Aw, you know, same ol', same ol'," shrugged Baito. "Little Mac is up against Incineroar later. From what I've heard, they're really hyping up this one!"

"Is that so?" replied Red. "Looks like we'll have to get front-row tickets, eh, Ashley?"

"…Whatever," said Ashley, idly picking at her pancake.

"Ah, don't mind Ashley," said Red to Baito and the armadillo. "She's not really much of a morning person…"

As the morning went on, the other Assist Trophies began to wake up and have their own breakfast. With the end of breakfast came Dr. Wright's morning meeting, and when that ended, most of them wandered off to do whatever they liked, whether it was training in the dojo, tending to the Pokémon at the Day Care, or simply wandering around to take in the fresh air.

In Ashley's case, she retreated back to her dark room, closed the door behind her, and magically drew the shades closed.

"So, Ashley, what're we gonna do today?" asked Red.

In response, Ashley took out a massive cauldron from under her bed. "I'm working on a potion… a potion that boosts adrenaline… It'll make the matches more interesting."

Red nodded. "Ah, an enhancement potion! That sounds fun!" He dove under the bed to fetch a small wooden box, its polish worn by time. "So, what'll we throw in the pot today?"

"Hand me those jellyfish tentacles. Mind the sting."

"Aye-aye, captain!" Red dove into the box to carefully pull out the parts. He handed them to Ashley, who casually tossed them into the pot. She thumbed through her spellbook. "One pint of crocodile tears."

Red poured out the bottle. "K. Rool sure was upset when we put all those caltrops in his room…"

"Butterfly wings."

These, too, were swept off the cutting board and into the cauldron.

"A spoonful of fly honey."

Red watched as the pungent mixture dripped into the cauldron. "I'm not even gonna ask what kinda flies they got over there…" he shuddered.

Ashley began to stir the pot. The liquid inside glowed a faint pink. "... It's almost done," she muttered, tossing in a leek. She stirred and stirred as the potion turned from pink to magenta. "It still needs the Razorshroom."

"No problem-o!" chirped Red, diving back into the box. He resurfaced a short time later, holding a set of russet-colored mushrooms, each with a noticeable slice in their caps. "Do you want them sliced or whole?"

"Whole. They'll lose their potency if you slice them."

"If you say so." He scraped the mushrooms off the cutting board and into the pot.

The very moment the mushrooms fell into the mixture, a cloud of foul-smelling smoke burst from the cauldron, briefly lighting up the dark room. When the smoke cleared, the potion was a deep crimson color.

"Alrighty!" cheered Red. "Let's test it!" But Ashley stopped him before he could dip a spoon into the pot.

"Hold on. There's still another step." She took out an old-looked scroll and pointed at the bottom. "It says to let it sit for 6 hours."

"Six hours?!" cried Red. "Well, what're we gonna do for that time?"

Ashley shrugged. "Dunno," she said simply. She placed a lid on top of the cauldron and flopped down on her bed, paging through her spellbook.

"I—okay." Red sat down on the floor. He glanced over at the window and sighed. "Hey, can we open the shades, y'know, let some light in here?" he asked.

"No."

"Why not?!" Red flopped over to face the ceiling. "Don't tell me we're just gonna sit here all day!"

"Maybe."

"Aw,  _c'mon!_ " This time, Red hopped up on the bed next to Ashley. "We're just gonna sit here and wait for the potion to be done?!"

Ashley closed her spellbook and sighed. "What would you have me do, Red?"

"Well, we can start by letting some light in here," huffed the imp, marching towards the window and throwing the curtains open. He turned back to Ashley. "Now, let's go outside!"

Ashley now sat up to look at Red. "Red, what would I even  _do_  outside?"

The imp snorted in faux-derision. "Lacking in imagination, are we? Not a problem!" With a snap of his fingers, a small bingo cage materialized in front of him. "We'll leave our day up to the hands of fate!"

He turned the crank, rattling the balls inside as Ashley watched, thoroughly unimpressed by the spectacle. Eventually, a ball rolled out of the cage and into Red's hand. He snapped his fingers again, and the ball turned into an envelope. Red opened the envelope and read from the paper inside. He looked at Ashley, fanged grin creeping up his face. "Well, whaddya know! It says here today we get to  _make a new friend!_ "

Ashley rolled her eyes. " _Uggghh…_ "

"Aw, come on, Ashley! It'll be fun!" Red spread his arms above himself. "Think of all the people we've got here in one place! It'll be good for you to reach out to others! Broaden your horizons! As much as I love the smell of brewing potions and casting spells, it's nice to not be hunched over a cauldron all day."

"But I already  _have_  a friend, and that's you," retorted Ashley. "I don't  _need_  another one."

"C'mon, Ashley," said Red, fixing the witch with a look that was both playfully knowing and genuinely concerned. "You and I both know you get lonely sometimes."

Ashley snapped her head up to glare at Red. "I do  _not_ —" She paused for a moment. "I don't… I'm not lonely…" she mumbled.

Red simply raised an eyebrow. "C'mon, Ashley, give it a try," he said in a much gentler tone. "There's bound to be someone here who'll be your friend."

Ashley sat there, staring at her shoes. At last, she sighed. "Fine. I'll try."

Red smiled warmly. "That's the spirit!" He took the girl's hand and led her out of her room, out of the main lounge and into the hallway. "It's great to socialize," declared the imp. "Trust me, Ashley, you'll find a new friend yet!"

* * *

The two of them walked down the halls, Red leading with plenty of pep in his step, and Ashley following, decidedly less excited.

"Do I  _have_  to?" asked Ashley, trudging along behind the imp.

"It'll be  _fun_!" replied Red. "This is the second tournament we've been in, and we still don't have a single close friend besides Wario! It'll be good for you to meet someone that you can get along with. Now, come on! We're going to the courtyard."

Many fighters and Assist Trophies alike were in the courtyard that day, most of them simply sitting around and enjoying the day. Red scanned over the area. "Hmmm… ooh! What about Waluigi?" he said, pointing at the purple-clad man. "You guys both have a mutual friend with Wario! I'd bet you'd get along great!"

Ashley pulled a face. "No," she said. "He's a loser."

Red faltered. "He—er—ah… okay, Wally's kind of a loser, yeah." The two of them continued to walk. "Or what about Kirby?" he said, pointing at the puffball who was busy climbing an apple tree. "He's  _everyone's_  friend!"

"Not  _my_  friend," mumbled Ashley.

"Not yet, anyways," continued Red, giving the girl a nudge. "Go on and talk to him!"

"No."

"Wha— _why not?!_ " cried an incredulous Red.

"He's too…" Ashley searched for the right word. "...Cutesy."

Red's shoulders slumped. "And what's wrong with cutesy?"

Ashley sighed. "Remember that time we went inside that awful book world of lollipops and ice cream?"

"Yeah, I remember that," said Red, smiling dreamily as he recalled. "Gosh, I wish we could go back…" His daydreaming was quickly interrupted by Ashley glaring down at him. He swallowed. "Or, y'know, maybe… maybe not… W-what about it?"

"That's what Kirby reminds me of. A happy world of sunshine and candy," she gagged.

"Hmmm…" Red pondered for a moment. "So what you're saying is, you'd prefer to talk to someone a little less sugary-sweet?"

"Pretty much what I said, yeah," came the witch's reply.

"Someone a little more… demonic?"

Ashley raised an eyebrow. "Do you know anyone like that?"

"Do I ever!"

* * *

Red led Ashley back into the mansion, past rows and rows of doors until finally stopping in front of one. "Now, normally, I'd take you to see the Nightmare Wizard, but I haven't seen him around recently. Come to think of it, where  _has_  he been…? But at any rate, if you're looking for demons, this is your guy!"

Ashley stared at the door. There were words engraved on it, in elegant, fancy-looking lettering. "Demon Lord Ghirahim," she read out loud. "I feel like I've heard that name before."

"But of course!" nodded Red. "He showed up around the same time we did! And I'm pretty sure some people were asking for him to be a real fighter!" He knocked on the door, like a properly raised demon. "Ghirahim, he's… kinda creepy and a little full of himself, but y'know, I feel like this can work out! In fact—ah, here he comes now!"

The door creaked open, revealing a tall, thin, and menacing figure wearing a red cloak. His skin, patterned as though he was wearing a skintight suit, was almost as pale as his hair. His eyes were cold and sunken as he looked at the duo. "What business have you with the great Lord Ghirahim?"

"Uhhhhh… Hiya, Ghirahim!" chirped Red. "How it's been?"

Ghirahim narrowed his eyes at the imp, who faltered with his smile. "Okay, okay," continued Red, as if Ghirahim had answered. "The, uh… the other Assist Trophies treatin' ya right?"

"Are you here to ask for a favor, or do you simply wish to waste my time?" asked Ghirahim. Red flinched and hid behind Ashley, who was decidedly not intimidated. Ghirahim scowled at her. "Why did you drag this… infant into my presence?"

Ashley glared at him while Red tried to explain. "Oh, this is Ashley! I'm her familiar spirit!"

"Familiar spirit…?" repeated Ghirahim. "You would willingly serve a human? For what purpose?"

"Um…" Red was taken aback. "I mean, I don't really have any ulterior purpose, if that's what you're asking… I just help her out because, y'know, we're friends!"

The demon lord sneered. " _Friends?_  You would be friends with this little…  _nothing?_ "

At this, both witch and imp stood up. "Who are you calling nothing?" growled Ashley.

Ghirahim scoffed. "Oh dear, it seems I've gotten over the human's skin." He briefly glanced back inside his room. "As much as I'd like to stay and…  _chat,_ " he snorted, "I have work to do. If you have any sense of self-preservation,  _don't bother me._ " And with that thinly veiled threat, Ghirahim rudely slammed the door in their faces.

Ashley huffed, with Red mirroring her off to the side. "What's  _his_  problem?!" growled the imp. "Well,  _fine!_  We don't need him anyways! We'll find someone  _way_  more cool and demonic than he is! Right, Ashley?"

No response came.

"Ashley?" Red turned around to find that Ashley was stomping away. "Daaah—hey, wait up!" He fluttered his wings as fast as he could to keep up with the witch. "Ashley, where ya going?"

"Back to the cauldron," growled Ashley. "I'm tired of this friendship stuff."

"Aww, c'mon!" Red thought for a bit. "I'll admit, that went a lot worse than I thought it would. Okay, if not someone demonic and evil, then how about someone nice and…  _angelic?_ "

Ashley pulled a face. "Oh, gross."

"Now, now hear me out!" said Red. "It'd work well! You, a witch that likes dark spells and hexes, pallin' around with someone that… is the exact opposite of that! It'd be perfect, it could… it could broaden our horizons! Now let's— _d'oof!_ "

In his exuberance, the imp had bumped into Pit, who had been walking down the same hallway. Both parties were sprawled out on the floor, save for Ashley, who stared at them, unamused.

"Ungh… oh, hey, Pit— _Pit!_  What a coinky-dink!" Red tugged at Ashley's sleeve. "See, look! This guy's a literal angel!" he whispered. He turned back to face Pit. "So, Pit! What've you been up to recently?"

The angel stared blankly at Red. "Um… walking."

Red turned back to Ashley and winked in an exaggerated manner. Ashley rolled her eyes. "Walking, eh?" replied Red, nodding sagely. "Sounds good, sounds good. ...So, uh… you remember us, right?"

Pit blinked. "Um… kiiind of…?" He glanced at Ashley. "You're one of the Villagers, right?"

Red faltered a bit, while Ashley glared at the angel as thought all his hair had fallen out. "N-no." said Red.

"Hmmm… Oh! Then your name is Futaba, right? A-and  _you,_ " he continued, pointing at the imp, "must be Necronomicon!"

Ashley's left eye twitched. Red sighed. "No, Pit."

"Ummm…" The angel shrugged. "I got nothing."

"Oh, come  _on!_ " exclaimed Red. "She was an Assist Trophy in the last tournament!"

Realization spread over Pit's face. " _Oooohh._  Well, why didn't you just say so? I think I remember you now!"

"Finally," muttered Red. "So now that we've gotten that across, we were wondering—"

"It's nice to finally meet you, Midna!"

_Zap!_

There was a flash of purple light and the air filled with raw, acrid-smelling smoke. Ashley coughed and cleared the air in front of her as she surveyed her handiwork. She'd done her part. Pit was gone, yes, but only in body, not in spirit. In his place was a large, yet delicious-smelling eggplant, with Pit's two legs sticking out the bottom. Ashley's wand wobbled as it transformed.

"Okay, that coulda gone a  _lot_  better," remarked a coughing Red. He stared at the former angel. "Wha— _an eggplant?!_ "

Eggplant-Pit screamed loudly, terrified by Ashley's hex. Or at least, he would have, if eggplants could do so. But mercifully for farmers, eggplants do not scream, and so Pit was forced to hop up and down and stomp his feet in a panic. Ashley and Red stared blankly at the sight.

"Ashley…" sighed Red, pinching the bridge of his non-existent nose. "That's… that's not how you make friends."

"I don't care." replied Ashley plainly.

"Are you gonna fix him?" Eggplant-Pit was running around in circles.

"No."

"Fair enough."

And so, the duo left Pit to wallow in the agony of being an eggplant forever.

Or until Palutena could find him.

* * *

"So, what now?"

"We go back and check on my potion."

"Seriously?"

Ashley and Red were strolling down the halls again, after the fiasco with Pit. The hallway was nearly empty, and the distant sounds of a match could be heard in the distance. "So, uh… where'd you even learn that eggplant spell?" asked Red.

"Read it in a book," said Ashley impassively.

"Ah." Red paused. "...Why eggplants, though?"

Ashley stared at nothing in particular. "They're just funny."

"Fuh… funny?"

"Funny," Ashley repeated.

Red took a deep breath. "Okay, Ashley, listen. We're trying to make friends, yeah? But… the way you're going about it is all wrong! I mean, what you did to Pit back there… He coulda been a great friend! I mean, sure, he didn't know who you were despite the fact we've been here two tournaments, now… And  _sure,_  we have a whole song about you that was introduced when he got here he no doubt should've heard many times already… And sure, he's the complete opposite of our entire theming… And  _sure,_  he's about as dumb as a sack of wet rocks! No one's arguing  _that!_  But he—"

Red paused, as he processed what he had just said. "Maybe this wasn't the best idea…" he mumbled. "But anyways, I— _hey!_  Ashley, are you listening to me?!"

Ashley was not, in fact, listening to Red. She had stopped dead in her tracks, staring to her left as though her life depended on it.

Red floated over to the witch. "Hey! Earth to Ashley?" He waved his hand in front of her face, but she did not blink. "Anybody home? What're you even star—staring at…"

The imp had followed her gaze, and now realized what she was staring at. A steel door, with a skull and crossbones painted on it, and the words "Keep Out!" just below in bold red letters. To add to this gruesome sight was a symbol below the words, a symbol that looked remarkably like a dragon's head.

"Oof," said Red, shaking his head. "That sure does look dangero—" He stopped as he noticed the look on Ashley's face. Her eyes twinkled, and her mouth was slightly open as she gazed at the door. Red, who had known Ashley for most of his life, was quick to put two and two together.

"Ashley, no," he whispered.

Slowly, as if controlled by an unseen force, Ashley drifted towards the door, and pushed it open. There was a long, spiraling staircase leading down, down, down, seemingly to nowhere.

"A-Ashley," stammered Red, as he tugged at her sleeve, "I  _really_  don't think this is a good idea. I-I mean, those warnings have gotta be there for a reason!"

But Ashley paid him no mind, stepping carefully down the stone steps, plunging into the inky darkness. At the bottom of the steps, there was a wooden door, painted with the same dragon head symbol. Ashley wasn't sure, but she thought she could see burn marks at the edges of the door. Despite Red's silent pleading, she slowly pushed open the door.

To their surprise, it was not a dark, foul-smelling dungeon that greeted the duo, but a wide open field of yellow grass. Clouds drifted by lazily above their heads. In the distance, the peaks of mountains could be seen. It was as if the door had led to another world.

Especially considered the large red wyvern standing in the middle of the field.

"Wh-wh- _what is that?!_ " asked Red, diving behind Ashley for protection. Ashley, on the other hand, was less than impressed. She glanced at a sign that was sticking out of the grass.

_This is a Rathalos, the apex predator of the Ancestral Steppe. It is very dangerous, with terrible fire breath and poisonous claws._

_If you know what's good for you, leave immediately! Unless, of course, you want a closed-casket funeral._

_Hugs n' kisses,_

_Crazy Hand_

The Rathalos snorted as it surveyed Ashley. Red peeked out from behind her and read the sign. As he did so, his face paled and his ears drooped. "F-fire breath? P-p-p-poison claws?! Ashley, I don't think we should be here! We gotta get outta here  _now!_ "

"But why?" asked Ashley, still starting at the beast.

"W- _why?!_ " repeated an incredulous Red. "Did you not read the sign?! Fire breath! Poisonous claws! Three of those four words are deadly! A-and just  _look_  at it! It's probably thinking about how to best prepare us for dinner right now!"

If the Rathalos was thinking of eating Red, it didn't show it. It growled softly as Ashley approached it. "So it's just been down here, by itself?"

"Uh, yeah, obviously," replied Red. "Because it's  _dangerous_."

Ashley reached up to pet the creature's snout, a move it surprisingly accepted. "But it looks so lonely…"

Red looked as though he might pass out. "Ohhh, no, you don't! We are  _not_  making friends with  _this_  guy! Come on, we're leaving!"

Ashley stayed put, staring right into the wyvern's eyes.

"Ashley, come  _on!_ "

Ashley did not move.

"...A-Ashley?"

With a snap of her fingers, she transformed Red into her scepter, which floated into her hand. She raised it above her head, twirling it as the orb began to glow. Her hair turned white, and her eyes glowed a brilliant shade of crimson.

There was a flash of light, and both witch and wyvern disappeared.

* * *

Bomberman sat in his room, reading a graphic novel he'd been meaning to catch up on:  _Toad Force V: The Notorious Fungus._  He was about to get to the climactic battle between the protagonist, Jack, and the villain who had long been in the shadows for at least three story arcs now! Just as he turned the page…

_Boom!_

The robot fell out of his chair as the room shook. His heart was pounding both from fear and from excitement. What kind of bomb could have made such a beautiful sound? It would have to be a magnificent explosive to create such a blast! Bomberman opened his window in search of this majestic dream bomb, but what he saw shocked him to his core.

To his disappointment, it was not a bomb that had made that sound, but a large red wyvern hovering above the grounds. It roared as it swooped down, ripping trees right out of the ground. And unless Bomberman was mistaken, he could've sworn he saw something sitting on its head…

"Ashleeeeey!" cried Red, hanging on for dear life. "This was—this is a  _bad idea!_ "

"What do you mean?" asked Ashley, as if she wasn't currently riding a deadly beast. "I made a friend today, just like you said!"

"Not like this!" shrieked the imp. " _Not like this!_ "

Ashley patted a scale behind its head. The Rathalos roared and launched a fireball at the ground. Wood splintered, stone shattered, and someone Ashley almost recognized screamed.

For a brief moment, the smell of cooked eggplant filled the air.

Ashley knew that the Rathalos' freedom would not last. In a few minutes, Master Hand and some other Smashers would come out and bring it back to where it belonged. And knowing Master Hand's love of order, she'd probably get punished for this. But was it truly worth it?

She stroked a scale right between the beast's horns. Above the din below and Red's frantic pleading next to her, she could hear it purr.

…

…Yes, it was worth it.

For the first time that day, Ashley smiled.


	5. The Ambitions of Mother Brain

Night had fallen on the Smash grounds. As the stars began to dot the night sky, all the participants of the Smash Brothers tournament began to call it a day. Within a couple of hours, the Smash Mansion hummed with the sound of dozing fighters. Not a single living creature was stirring.

Or so they thought.

Luigi was waddling towards the kitchen for a midnight snack (strawberry delight, a personal favorite of his). In his journey, he had wandered into one of the more disused and ominous corners of the mansion. The green man couldn’t help but feel a bit unnerved by his surroundings. This hallway looked so old and decrepit, and the floor creaked with his every step. “Ohhh, mamma mia…” came his wavering voice. He began to sorely wish he’d brought his flashlight with him. Just as he was about to decide that his dessert was wasn’t worth all this trouble, something caught his attention. An old, wooden door hung open, and a strange purple glow was emanating from within.

In all other cases, Luigi would have simply turned right around and marched back up to his room to get some sleep. But something about this door was strangely… enchanting. Hesitantly, Luigi reached towards the door. Was that humming he could hear from the other side? His trembling hands gripped the doorknob. Luigi was so entranced by what could be inside that he almost didn’t notice the shadow that fell over him.

Luckily for him, he did.

Slowly, Luigi turned around to face what was behind him. His eyes widened as he beheld what he saw. He seemed a bit bigger than Luigi’s last encounter with him, but there was no mistaking the imposing figure of the king of the Boos.

Luigi barely stifled a scream as he fell on his bottom and tried to back away. But as he did so, he felt a sickening cold on his back. Once again, Luigi slowly turned around to meet his newest assailant.

A tall, imposing, and all-too-familiar figure wielding a scythe, with black robes draping behind it, stood in front of Luigi. Its blue flaming eyes glared down at the plumber. In a deep, chilling voice, it hissed, “ _The candlelight of your soul shall be snuffed out tonight._ ”

Luigi didn’t give the specter time to raise its scythe. He screamed and fled the scene, pushing past King Boo and running as fast as his legs could carry him.

The two phantoms simply stood there, watching the plumber run away. Then, slowly, they flickered and began to fade, melting into thin air.

“ _Hnn hnn hnn hnn…_ ”

An orb as dark as the night sky and dotted with pale yellow stars slowly rose from the floor. It pulsed and convulsed until it burst, revealing a gaunt-looking creature with spindly hands, a tornado-like core, and a ghastly grinning face.

“ _Perhaps that will teach you to pry, mortal._ ”

And with that, the Nightmare Wizard drifted into the room, closing the door behind him.

It was a plain room, simply decorated with a long table and lamps lit with purple light bulbs in each corner of the room. Seated at the table was Ghirahim, looking lithe and cruel as usual. Across the table from him was a corpulent, winged blue demon with blank red eyes and horns that had dulled over the years. Next to the demon was a middle-aged man with balding gray hair, looking very uncomfortable between the two demons. And at the far side of the table, sitting in a glass case, was a gigantic brain with sharp metal barbs jutting out from the cerebrum. A single, staring eye gazed out from under the cerebral hemispheres.

“You’re late, you know,” smirked Ghirahim. “You know how Mother likes being on time.”

“ _Yes, a thousand apologies,_ ” came the voice of Nightmare. “ _I had to make sure no one was spying on us._ ”

The brain stared at Nightmare. “Very well,” she intoned. “I expect you to be on time for our next meeting.” When Nightmare sat down, she turned to face the rest of the group. “I suppose you are wondering why I have gathered you here tonight.”

“Not particularly, no,” said Ghirahim, resting his head in his hand.

Mother Brain glared at the demon. “I have called you forth to propose an… alliance.”

The balding man and the blue demon seemed surprised, while Ghirahim simply arched an eyebrow. “Think of it. The four of you, led by me, the true successor of the Chozo and their greatest creation,” she continued. “I have already convinced Nightmare to our side. Think of the possibilities…!”

The blue demon spoke first. “Do you mean to say that if I should join you, I would regain control of Devil World?”

“Devil World, and so much more,” hissed Mother Brain. “Everything you wish, beyond your wildest dreams.”

The Devil’s eyes widened. Images of an underworld under his command flashed before his eyes, and his ears twitched at the sound of wailing souls. And his greatest triumph, that irksome dragon in the deepest, darkest, most hopeless pits of his realm…! A wicked smirk crept up his face. “Very well, O creature of flesh and steel,” he intoned. “I shall assist you on your endeavors.”

“Excellent,” said Mother Brain, grinning as only a giant brain monster could grin. She turned to Ghirahim. “And you, demon lord. Would you join my side, the side of true power?”

Ghirahim simply sipped from a teacup that he had on his person for some reason. “Well, let’s see,” he hummed, tapping his chin. “It _would_ get me out of that dingy old lounge room… And more opportunities for me to whet a certain… _appetite_ …” He licked his lips, clearly savoring his thoughts. “I suppose I can lend my assistance to your cause,” he drawled at last.

“Well, _I,_ for one, will have to pass,” huffed the middle-aged man sitting across from Ghirahim. “I’ve had too many bad experiences with alien supercomputers, thank you very much!”

Mother Brain scoffed. “Hmmm! I expected such a simple creature would reject such an offer out of hand. Would you truly give up a chance at glory, Wily?”

The mad doctor looked quite irritated. “S- _simple?!_ ” Off to the side, Ghirahim snickered. “I am Doctor Albert Wily! The world’s greatest scientist! I’m a _genius!_ ”

Mother Brain leered down at Wily, clearly unimpressed. “And yet, you are brought to your knees time and time again. By a _child,_ no less.”

“Grk—!” This time, Ghirahim burst into full guffawing, with Devil following suit. Wily grit his teeth. “Why can’t you just use one of your own generals to help you? What was that thing’s name again? Dark Samus? She could—”

Mere mention of the name caused the room to darken, the lamps in the corner dimming slightly. Mother Brain turned to glare directly at Dr. Wily, a very effective tactic given her single bulging eye. Even Nightmare began to shift around uncomfortably. Dr. Wily seemed to realize his mistake, slowly shrinking into his chair.

“Let me make one thing clear,” she hissed. “That usurping little _worm_ is _not_ one of my generals. I have not forgotten her exploits on the planet Aether, nor will I forgive her. The Space Pirates are mine and _mine alone_ to command, and I will _not_ tolerate her interference. Have I made myself clear, _Albert?_ ”

Wily made a soft choking noise and nodded.

“Can I trust that your army of robots will assist me?”

Wily swallowed and nodded again, averting his eyes.

“Good.” She turned back to the rest of the group. “Are there any _further_ questions?”

Devil raised his hand. “What, exactly, does this plan of yours entail?”

Mother Brain sneered at the demon. “Is it not obvious at this point? We are going to overthrow the tournament’s organizers.”

“You mean Master Hand?” asked Ghirahim lazily.

“Yes, both the Master and Crazy Hand,” replied Mother Brain. “And all the other inferior lifeforms under their thrall.” 

The Devil stroked his chin, wicked glee spreading across his face. “We’ll usurp the hands’ power and bring this world to its knees! Excellent…”

“Then it is settled.” declared Mother Brain. “I shall—”

“ _What about Ridley?_ ”

All eyes turned to Nightmare, who had been silent up until that point. “ _Shall we inform Ridley of our endeavors?_ ”

“Hmmm…” Mother Brain pondered on the phantom’s words. “Geoform-187, my most loyal attack dog, shall be very instrumental in our plan. He’ll keep the hunter or any other meddlers out of our hair. And yet… it is too dangerous to directly involve him just yet. It is best to keep him in the dark for now. I shall summon him when his time comes. Until then, keep this entire operation quiet. Understood?”

A general murmur of agreement went across the room. “Mum’s the word,” commented Ghirahim under his breath.

“Very good,” said Mother Brain. “Perhaps there is intelligent life in this realm after all.” She gazed impassively at the group from inside her glass case. “This meeting is now adjourned. I shall summon you all when it is time to take the next steps. Now go.”

One by one, the miscreants filed out of the room, with Wily looking the most eager to leave. “Somehow,” he remarked to Devil, “I feel like I’ll regret this later…”

“Hmph. A human of your ilk would say that,” growled the demon. “I will admit that I am not too sure of the flesh-and-steel creature’s plan. But at the same time, I feel a great power coming from her. I am willing to tolerate her for the sake of my goals.”

“...Oh, fine,” Dr. Wily conceded at last. “I’ll put up with her as long as I have control of my world when all’s said and done. And,” he added under his breath, “She’d better stay away from it once it’s mine…”

The three villains walked off in different directions, leaving Mother Brain to plot her next move.


End file.
